


Life of a Flaming Asexual

by Fandomgeekery



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Background Relationships, College, Drinking, Film Major, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9508430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomgeekery/pseuds/Fandomgeekery
Summary: Speaking of sucking, Yong Soo was proud to announce to the world that he did not, in fact, suck. This being the case because A. He was simply a totally awesome sort of guy and he didn’t feel a need to deny that. Also, B. He was hella asexual. Not just asexual. Hella asexual. And aromantic too; can’t forget that. So, no, there would be no sucking of genitals or other bodily parts for Mr. Im Yong Soo.





	1. ᕕ( ⁰ ▽ ⁰ )ᕗ

“Natalya! Natalya! Get up, get up, get up, get up!” Yong Soo shook the soundly sleeping Belarusian excitedly before rushing to throw open the curtains, letting the early morning sun pour into the room. “Get up, get up, get up! Big day today!” The excitable Korean insisted as he jumped up and down on her bed, trying to tug away her blankets.

“Im Yong Soo, so help me, I will cut off all your fingers with a butter knife, make them into a stew, and feed it to you,” came Natalya’s simple reply. Yong Soo flopped down next to her, pouting and giving her the puppy dog eyes even though she hadn’t bothered to open her eyes to make this threat.

“But Nat! You said you’d go with me to pride today! Also, I bring coffee.”

“Fine. I will allow your fingers to remain intact. Perhaps until a later date.”

“That’s the spirit! Now come _oooon_ ; we’re going to be late!”

 

Natalya sipped ruefully at her coffee, but it was hard for her to _stay_ bitter, despite being as far from a morning person as possible, when she had good coffee. Yong Soo had found out long ago that bringing her coffee in the morning was, more often than not, less of an act of kindness and more an act of necessity.

Yong Soo was also very good at testing the limits of what coffee could do, he was told. Natalya said he was ‘some _eternal_ source of energy no matter the time of day’. And while some of that pep was greatly appreciated in getting her through college life, the fact that he chose to express his ‘ _enjoyment_ of life’ by cranking bubblegum pop of many languages-- Ke$ha and various K-Pop artists being his favorite-- as high as he could stand it… Well, _that_ was not appreciated by his dear Belarusian friend.

Sucks to suck, Miss Natalya.

 

Speaking of sucking, Yong Soo was proud to announce to the world that he did not, in fact, suck. This being the case because A. He was simply a totally awesome sort of guy and he didn’t feel a need to deny that. Also, B. He was hella asexual. Not _just_ asexual. _Hella_ asexual. And aromantic too; can’t forget that. So, no, there would be no sucking of genitals or other bodily parts for Mr. Im Yong Soo.

He was so much into doing... nothing… that it _blew_ people’s _minds_ because he proudly displayed before them a revolutionary idea-- some people don’t want to have sex. He wasn’t afraid to show this in many aspects of his life.  For example, attending a local pride parade and wearing his asexual flag as a cape as he donned his black, gray, white, and purple “ _My sexuality is no_ ” tank top with his super sweet “Ace Pride” snapback.

Cuz he could.

And it for whatever reason, it freaked people out.

It was great. Life was great. People were great.

And that was with no sex or romance involved.

So yeah. Yong Soo just wasn’t into people as more than friends, but he _did_ have a lot of those. In fact, one might say he was a complete friend _whore_ as much as he surrounded himself with a downright lavish amount of platonic relationships. Take Natalya Braginsky for example. They’d been friends for years and had somewhere down the line ended up as college roommates, sharing the responsibility of paying the rent of the little apartment they had together off-campus. Well, technically it was off-campus. However, it was still really close to the college campus. So much so that it was usually just mistaken as part of the college campus, which it basically was considering how overrun with college students its apartments were.

There was a lot about Natalya that a lot people never bothered to get to know, which was truly a shame. Honestly, so many people summed her up in one of the following ways 1. She was a hot Belarusian chick with a sexy accent or 2. She scared people. Both were true, Yong Soo supposed. But there was more to her than that. So many people generalized her and never got to see that. However, a certain very lucky friend whore got the opportunity of seeing that. He friended the shit out of that wonderful gal and got to learn all about what she was truly like.

And now he got the opportunity to drag her mostly-willingly to a pride parade for him. Friendship is golden, people. Friendship is golden.

Once they arrived at their destination, not hard to find thanks to the rainbow-colored decorations, Natalya all but threw herself out the car before he had come to a complete stop. Huh. She must not have appreciated the 6th rendition of Hollaback Girl. What a loser. But a loser that he loved and cared for deeply and in her heart of hearts, the feelings were reciprocated. On the outside, however, Miss Natalya was a rather unhappy camper for the moment. Unacceptable! The whole point of a pride parade is to be gay! As in, happy. You get it.

Natalya actually had a boyfriend.

(Not that he deserved her in any way, shape, or form… but he & her together was definitely a thing that existed.)

She was also a heterosexual, which is important to mention because making assumptions of someone’s sexuality based on their current partner is not always incredibly accurate. That much was apparent with the small army of bisexual, pansexual, and what-have-you flag wavers. Plus, some people were just heteroromantic. Plus, probably other things and exceptions. Either way, assumptions were dangerous.

Like, for example, assuming that Natalya would be willing to stay and hang out with him publicly as he began a seventh rendition of Hollaback Girl, acapella.

Yong Soo jogged after her. “Natalya! Where are you going?!” He called, jogging at Natalya’s walking pace.

“I need more coffee to deal with you today,” she told him bluntly and harshly. Note, though, that her lack of a joking smile or obviously sarcastic tone did not make it a hurtful statement. Note, Yong Soo had been close friends with her for years and note that close friends are comfortable being assholes to each other. Lovingly. In a way that was not lovingly at all. Twas the true beauty of friendship. She sighed as he continued to do his obnoxious half-jog next to her, asexual cape flapping behind him, as she trudged along the sidewalk. “You go do your thing. I’ll find you in maybe five minutes. We passed a nice-looking cafe advertising some cheap coffee and I could use another fix.”

“Caffeine addiction probably isn’t good for you.”

“And yet you enable it.”  
“You’re a college student trying to maintain a 4.0 GPA; I think enabling a caffeine addiction is the least I can do for your poor, suffering soul, my dear Belarusian.” Natalya smirked at that and waved him away.

“ _Shoo_. Have fun. Make friends. Don’t take candy from strangers.”

“I would _never_!” Yong Soo gasped dramatically, a hand over his heart in offense. “Unless it was watermelon flavored. I’m weak in the knees for watermelon,” were his parting words.

 

Pride parades are fun. Meeting similarly-minded people is fun. Yong Soo had a whole lot of fun. However, what was _not_ fun was trying to find his friend afterwards because there were _so many people_. She was not standing anywhere he could see her. He headed back towards the car. She was not waiting for him there. So, he stowed his ace flag, zipped up his jacket, grabbed his satchel with a couple bucks in it, and shot her a text to meet her at the cafe where she’d gone before.

He arrived there before she did.

A waiter wandered over in the small cafe, crowded with pride-goers. Yong Soo ordered some tea with his usual large smile that he was infamous for not realizing was there. The standard procedure.

He _was_ starting to notice, however, that the waiter seemed to be an unusually friendly man and very unhurried to leave the Korean at his table. Especially considering the cafe was stuffed to bursting with an ever-growing number of the LGBT+ community that were waiting to be served.

But the waiter was focused on Yong Soo’s customer satisfaction. And honestly, Yong Soo was delighted. He loved friendly people. And when the waiter started up an enthusiastic conversation about shared interests, Yong Soo was more than happy to chat. He loved people. People were great. He loved getting to know them and to make them smile and laugh and--

“So are you with these guys. You know, from the parade outside?”  
“Well, I’m not _with_ anyone-- well, my friend should get here eventually-- but yeah I marched by myself today.” The waiter nodded, his interest further piqued by this answer.

“So no boyfriend, then?” The waiter wanted to confirm.

“Boyfriend? Oh, no, I’m single--” Wait. _Wait just a moment_ . _This was what those in the romantically and sexually active sector referred to as a ‘flirtation’_.

“Really? I mean, my shift gets over pretty soon. I could join you for some coffee-- or tea, like you ordered, I guess-- but,” oh no. The poor soul was getting blushy. Oh the poor thing had no idea who he was talking to. He’d seen the pride parade and instantly assumed homosexual. Oh dearie dear… “I could bring you another one? On the house? You know, after my shift…?”

“Um… I’m sorry, but uh… I think you’re talking to the wrong guy?”

“I didn’t mean to creep you out or anything, but it’s just… You’re an attractive guy and, well… You were in the pride parade… Can you blame a guy for trying?”

“No, you’re fine. I’ve been informed I’m pretty Fergalicious, but I don’t think you understand; I’m more content being single than you are assuming here. It’s nothing against you. I mean. You’re pretty aesthetically pleasing yourself, my friend…?” His hair looked soft. His jaw was defined. His hands were nice, working hands. Yong Soo could appreciate that someone looked nice. It was just that there was no attraction or urge to _do_ anything with that knowledge. The guy was getting pretty huffy now. Probably because most people were not used to being turned down and then referred to as ‘aesthetically pleasing’. That might have sent some mixed messages into an already negatively-charged situation, which wasn’t his intention at all.

“What does that even _mean_?!” The waiter demanded. Yong Soo bit the inside of his cheek, deciding on a different approach to the situation. The Korean sighed, pulling out his wallet.

It was large, shiny, and marketed towards teenage girls involved in tennis. However, Yong Soo found the pun scrawled across it also applied pretty well to his own life. “I don’t chase boys, I **ACE** them ”, read Yong Soo’s wallet. “So how much was that tea?” Yong Soo asked, making sure the pun was very clearly displayed as he continued on without giving the waiter time to answer. “Geeze, do you think it’s warm in here?” Yong Soo asked, unzipping his black jacket to reveal his ace pride tank top under it. “And so _bright_!” Yong Soo exclaimed, pretending to shield his eyes from the Sun before dragging his ace pride snapback out of his satchel to put back on his head. “That whacky Sun! Making things warm!” Yong Soo mused, rolling up his pants legs, to reveal ace pride shoes. “But hey now you can look at my sweet kicks! Alas! My legs feel so exposed!” He wailed before proceeding to pull up his knee high, neon-colored socks with ‘SINGLE 5EVER’ written up the side. The waiter sighed.

“Alright, alright. I get it, sir…”  
“AND DO YOU WANNA SEE THESE WICKED COOL UNDERPANTS?”  
“NO THANK YOU. YOU HAVE MADE YOUR POINT, SIR,” the waiter assured him loudly before scurrying away to help others and get his tea order placed. Yong Soo smiled to himself, mentally noting to tip the poor guy extra.

Natalya showed up while Yong Soo was receiving his tea. “Sorry about back there, by the way,” Yong Soo was saying to the waiter. “It was all intended to be in good fun.” Natalya gave Yong Soo a look that she gave him quite a bit, actually. A look that very clearly said ‘ _Okay, what the fuck did you do this time, you stupid, stupid human being?_ ’. Yong Soo smiled sheepishly at her before turning back to the waiter. The waiter laughed.

“Ah, it’s all good. _I’m_ sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”  
“No, it was actually rather sweet,” Yong Soo said with a smile, sipping at his beverage. “I may have to take you up for that offer on a free tea, though. This stuff is great.”

“And I may have to take up your offer to see your ‘wicked cool’ underwear,” the waiter countered. They stared at each other evenly for a beat. They both broke into laughter at the same time. Yong Soo shook the man’s hand happily.

“It was nice meeting you, pal!” Yong Soo called as Natalya dragged him out of the building before he could could do anything else stupid. Yong Soo turned to her once they were on their way back to the car. “Hey! I made a friend, like you said!” He announced gleefully.

“I am hesitant to congratulate you, considering the conversation I walked in on,” Natalya said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, he tried to hit on me--”

“I don’t want to know. It’ll give me a headache.”

“But, Nat, I’m hilarious.”

“I’m sure. And you can tell me all about it once we get in the car, I suppose. On one condition. _I_ get control of the music on the way home.”

 


	2. ლ(·̿̿Ĺ̯̿̿·̿ლ)

College life would be a lot more fun if there was less crippling poverty involved, Yong Soo decided. While he was averagely sure that this was literally only an American college problem, which meant that according to other countries it didn’t  _ have to be this way _ , it didn’t matter too much because he was already dealing with it. 

Either way, he was having a swell time ignoring the looming monolith that was debt and a dwindling supply of both Ramen noodles and money set aside by him and Natalya to pay the rent of their apartment. Turns out, savings accounts that have been open, consistently added to, and collecting interest for someone’s entire life only goes so far in American higher education because those funds were drying up fast for Yong Soo. At least he wasn’t Natalya, though, who hadn’t always planned to go to college in America, had not had as many opportunities for scholarships, and was likely going to be in debt to student loans for who-knows-how-long. 

Yeah, best to ignore little details like that. Instead, Yong Soo was focusing on singing to his favorite K-Pop bands on shuffle and attempting to scrub cooked egg off of their one skillet. Ramen noodles could be consumed as bona fide breakfast food when you put egg in it, Yong Soo and Natalya had unanimously decided after they ran out of cereal. 

Natalya slammed open the door and then slammed it closed again with a vengeance, returning from a day of lectures. “Welcome home!” Yong Soo called before returning to singing in Korean. Natalya stumbled into the kitchen blearily, positively brain dead from a long day and not enough coffee. 

“Food?” Was her greeting. Fair enough. It  _ was _ his day to provide the nourishment; they rotated that duty between themselves daily. Yong Soo cleared his throat, turning his music down a smidge. 

“Ah, yes. About that. I have come to the conclusion that, based on our budget, we now need to filter feed the air in the manner of sea sponges.” Natalya groaned, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes, nodding understandingly. “Yeah, sorry, toots. We need to make a store run again. I can pull from my account this time…?” Natalya groaned again.

“First off, don’t call me ‘toots’. That sounds really weird coming from you. Secondly, we need to get another roommate. Splitting the rent 3 ways could help all of us. It may be a little more cramped than before, but we have the space to spare. We do not, however, have the money to keep going on like this,” Natalya told him. Yong Soo nodded. It wasn’t the first time this had been brought up. It probably wouldn’t be the last. She was right. 

“I’ll throw together some flyers and put ‘em around tomorrow,” he assured her. She let out a sigh of relief, grateful that she wasn’t going to be the one to have to do it. 

“Seriously, though, all I had was a coffee for lunch. What are you feeding me?”

“Where’s your man when you actually need him?”

“Leave him alone. He’s been busy,” Natalya stated blankly. Yong Soo would be totally down for Natalya being in her relationship, but the thing was, her boyfriend didn’t like Yong Soo. More specifically, her boyfriend didn’t like that she lived with Yong Soo. Natalya had tried to explain the  _ actual _ nature of her and Yong Soo’s relationship to her boyfriend, but he still didn’t like it. If that was the only problem, Yong Soo would have said it was fair enough. It  _ would _ be rather awkward for your girlfriend to be living with another man, asexual or not.  _ However _ , Natalya’s boyfriend didn’t see Yong Soo’s sexuality as valid and had said as much to his face, accusing him and anyone else that identified themselves on the asexual spectrum of faking it. Nothing he couldn’t handle, true. But then she’d been arguing with him about it over the phone. He being drunk and the sort that likes to call people up and complain. 

It hadn’t even been on speaker, but his slurred yelling was loud enough for Yong Soo to clearly hear him accuse her of being a, quote, “slut” and “whore”. 

Personally, all of that didn’t sit well with Yong Soo. 

Natalya assured him that her boyfriend didn’t drink often for that very reason; he said some stupid things he would later come to regret. And that was all it was, she assured, stupid, drunken yelling. Yong Soo had asked her if he had ever apologized for what he’d said. She’d changed the subject. 

Yong Soo didn’t like him. He didn’t like Yong Soo. Natalya was very aware of both opinions.

Back to the present. Yong Soo waved it off. “I’m kidding. I asked my brother if I could come over today. We’re gonna leech off of them,” he informed her. “ _ Well _ , I should clarify. I asked Kiku, Kiku understood my ulterior motives, and told me to get my own junk.  _ Alfred _ overheard and begged him to let us come over.” Yong Soo grinned. “So the lesson of the day is to not go to your sibling first if you need junk. However, one of your best friends, the partner of that sibling, will help a homie out.”

“So ask Alfred before Kiku for food. Gotcha.”

“Nah. With you, I think they’d give you whatever you asked. I think you scare them.”

“Good.”

“Also, I give Kiku too much crap. He’s probably just tired of me stealing their toilet paper whenever I come over.”

“You steal their toilet paper?”

“And occasionally soap and toothpaste. Hey, I’m providing for us, Nat.”

“I’d tell you off, but honestly our money situation has vastly lowered my moral standards. In that case, see if you can steal some milk from them while we’re over; we’re out again,” Natalya advised as she scanned the contents of their fridge. 

 

Yong Soo woke up the next morning with an impending sense of doom-- better known as  _ responsibility _ . However, that was no motivation to get him out of bed, so he reminded himself how awesome a new roommate could be. He’d designed and printed out some flyers the previous night after he and Natalya had finished mooching off of Alfred and Kiku down the hall. He’d spread those around later. First goal of the morning: coffee for Miss Braginsky.

He was going to brew some for her like usual, but passing by her room where she was still sleeping like a bar of lead (a bar of lead that snored with the strength of a thousand men, that is), he just couldn’t do it. Natalya had been rationing the cheap coffee she had around the apartment for herself and she only  _ really _ snored when she was  _ really _ tired. Most days, it was a cute, little girl snore. When the volume went from cute little girl to leaf blower, Yong Soo could tell she was bone tired. 

So, Yong Soo grabbed his jacket to put over his jammies and headed out into the cool morning air. 

He then came back inside for shoes. 

The trek to the block’s coffee shop wasn’t a long one, but Yong Soo always liked it. There was a certain beauty to the early morning before zombified college students emerged from their abodes. 

He also liked it because there was always a familiarity to be expected. There were the usual morning people out and about, always at the same sort of times. There was Ned, always out smoking his morning cigarette on his porch across the street and always giving him an acknowledging nod whenever he passed. There were lots of ‘always’s, but there were more ‘usually’s or ‘sometimes’s. Yong Soo was one of those; he didn’t  _ always _ go to the coffee shop to get Natalya and himself a cup of joe. Sadiq Adnan, who lived across the hall from him, was one of those that were  _ usually _ around, liking his cup of Turkish coffee the way the shop offered. Familiarity among a neighborhood. 

However, Yong Soo noticed that a certain someone broke the expected pattern. 

He had never seen the fellow before and the fellow looked lost.

The newbie was struggling with a map, his blank expression not showing any sign of worry or displeasure, but judging from his glancing around, he didn’t seem to know precisely where he was. He looked maybe Arabic, casually dressed in khakis and a t-shirt along with a keffiyeh around his head. 

Naturally, Yong Soo made a beeline for him. The newbie noticed him and instantly went on guard like he might be attacked by the tall Korean. Yong Soo grinned widely (which made him even more suspicious). “Hey! I’m Yong Soo! Are you gonna be attending the college next door?” Newbie nodded, still expressionless. Not much of a talker, maybe. That was cool; Yong Soo talked enough for the both of them. “Where ya headed? I can show you around if you like,” he offered. Newbie looked confused at the sudden display of kindness. Yong Soo stuck out a hand in greeting. “I promise not to bite. It’s nice to meet you!” Slowly, Newbie took his hand and shook it.

“I’m Gupta,” he introduced himself simply.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Gupta!”

“I am on my way to a lecture about foreign cultures… It is the 1st class on my schedule…” Gupta told him. Yong Soo brightened. 

“Hey, lemme see your schedule, Gupta! I think we have the same class!” One glance at the newcomer’s schedule was all it took to confirm that. “You  _ do _ know that this lecture doesn’t start for over an hour?” Gupta nodded, holding his head high and shrugging. 

“This is my first day. I did not want to be late,” he explained himself succinctly and moved to walk around Yong Soo. 

“Hey, wait! You should come get coffee with me; I’ll buy and then I’ll walk you where you  _ actually _ need to go. Cuz you’re going the wrong way,” the Korean bartered. Gupta looked between him and his map carefully and without showing a hint of his thought process. However, growing up with Kiku, Yong Soo had a pretty decent guess of what was going through his mind.  _ I am stoic and quiet _ , Yong Soo imagined Gupta was thinking,  _ and this Asian kid is loud and annoying _ . Gupta was likely weighing the pros and cons. Free coffee and a guide was offered up. But spending a little more time with a probably suspiciously generous college student was also required.

Gupta agreed. 

Yong Soo animatedly pulled along a conversation between him and Gupta. He asked Gupta about his major (archaeology, was all he was told), he told Gupta that he himself was a film major, he told Gupta about the projects he was trying to work on both independently and for class, he asked Gupta about the work he was required to do for his major (Gupta was yet to be given many details), he asked Gupta about his home (Egypt was home to Gupta), Yong Soo told Gupta about his crazy Asian household, Yong Soo told him that he spoke pretty decent Korean and asked if Gupta knew any other languages (Arabic, he was informed), and then they exchanged the words for ‘tree’ in Arabic and Korean. 

Gupta may not be very talkative and Yong Soo may be annoying, but he’d made Gupta almost-smile twice now so it was worth it. 

Yong Soo also now knew some of the basics of his newfound maybe-soon-to-be friend. 

The taller of the two purchased 3 coffees. Gupta eyed the third one with concern, but didn’t say anything, so Yong Soo didn’t explain. He’d see soon enough anyway. 

 

“NATALYA!” Yong Soo hollered as he burst into their apartment, a wary Gupta trailing behind him after Yong Soo had promised to take him to class early after they dropped by his place to get his stuff and drop off the extra coffee. Natalya, who had apparently just dragged herself out of bed with nothing but the power of spite (a power that the two of them enjoyed as a motivator, honestly) shot him a death glare for yelling at this hour of the morning. 

A lot of ladies claimed they looked awful in the mornings. Looking awful was never an issue for Miss Natalya, but she  _ did _ look like she was willing to lay waste to the lives of those around her in the mornings (it was also often her resting face and one of her default emotions, but that was beside the point). 

“I bring coffee!” Yong Soo hollered some more nonetheless. “Just the way you like it! I also bring an Egyptian!” Gupta had sunk back behind Yong Soo some, having decided that the Korean seemed like the lesser evil.

Natalya accepted the coffee with a sincere thank you, though her expression didn’t change, and regarded Gupta with interest flickering across her Quadruple Homicide Face ( TM) . “Hello,” she told Gupta, watching him carefully. 

Gupta met her intense gaze evenly, curiously. “Good morning,” he replied. She raised her coffee in acknowledgement that he’d spoken. 

“Did you already put up the flyers, then?” Natalya asked Yong Soo. 

“WOAH! I forgot all about that when I met my new friend Gupta here. Do you think it’s a sign? COULD IT BE DESTINY THAT WE MEET THIS GLORIOUS, SERENDIPITOUS MORN?” Yong Soo was excited. Gupta was just a lost new kid. Yong Soo was  _ that  _ person that rolled out the welcome wagon for the lost new kids. New kids typically started off in dorms, which seemed a neat setup until you’d lived in them for a while. Then you got the bill. 

Natalya and Yong Soo were also struggling with bills. 

Gupta didn’t seem like a person that would annoy Natalya and Yong Soo liked him already. Gupta didn’t seem outwardly scared of Natalya, which boosted him a couple points in perfection rating. And if he was a little inwardly scared of Natalya like his subtle usage of Yong Soo as a human shield suggested, then that  _ also _ boosted him a couple points in Natalya’s book. 

Meanwhile, Gupta was confused.

“Excuse me?” the Egyptian questioned, interrupting Natalya and Yong Soo’s session of meaningful glances that good friends have. Natalya was clearly all for sitting down with him and talking to him about their situation in a calm, comprehensive atmosphere as well as apologizing for the suddenness of the situation and for Yong Soo probably freaking him out. 

But then. “GUPTA, DO YOU WANNA LIVE WITH US?!” Yong Soo practically shrieked with glee. Natalya sighed and one could literally see her mentally saying goodbye to the possibility of Gupta being the roommate they were looking for. 

Gupta backed up, finally showing some emotion on his face.

Those emotions were surprise and mild fear. 

Natalya’s head sunk into her hands. “I… I’m sorry…” Gupta was saying, looking around as if was searching for an escape route. “But…” Gupta looked between the two of them. “I would not want to… get in the way of your… relationship…” The Egyptian told them. Natalya and Yong Soo looked at each other.

“We’re not together,” Natalya assured at the same time Yong Soo declared,

“Nah, Gupta. I’m aromantic and asexual and Nat and I are just good friends.” 

“Oh,” was Gupta’s reaction. He looked at his shoes awkwardly. “I, too, am aromantic and asexual,” he said. 

“WOAH  _ SWEET _ ! I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE! C’MON YOU GOTTA SEE MY WICKED COOL SETUP! I HAVE AN ACE FLAG UP AND EVERYTHING!” Yong Soo rejoiced, gesturing wildly for Gupta to come see his room and all his pride merch. Gupta followed rather reluctantly, but also with undeniably renewed interest. On the way, Natalya did her best to patch up Yong Soo’s shortcomings by explaining their roommate situation and proposal the ‘ _ right _ ’ way as well as informing Gupta that she would like to ask him some questions personally if he was, in fact, interested in taking them up on the offer because she and Yong Soo, no matter what Yong Soo may say, would prefer not to live with a complete stranger. She also offered to answer any questions  _ he _ might have as Yong Soo proudly showed Gupta all his totally cool stuff. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Natalya's boyfriend is not a particular Hetalia character. Feel free to leave comments, criticisms, and kudos!


	3. s( ^ ‿ ^)-b

Yong Soo panted from the exertion of the battle, nearly lost, as sweat dripped from his forehead. “No! No, Natalya! Please!” the Korean found himself begging for mercy from the merciless rival as he swung his body in a last, desperate attempt to do  _ something  _ to make up for lost ground. To make his failure, while now  _ painfully _ imminent, less humiliating. If he was going down, he needed to go down with  _ some _ dignity intact. 

But it was all for naught. An effort done in vain. 

Because the song had ended. 

_ Just Dance _ tallied up the point differences for him and Natalya, Natalya having beaten him by three whole stars. Again. Not his worst loss, though. Yong Soo sighed, tossing his Wii remote onto the couch and reaching for his water bottle. 

Natalya hadn’t even broken a sweat. Now that was some supernatural superpower dancing bullshit, right there. 

“Cheater, cheater, pumpkin-eater!” Yong Soo insisted after properly hydrated. Natalya scoffed, this having been the sixth time that he had accused her of cheating. 

“Yong Soo, we have switched places, switched remotes, turned it off and on again, I think it is time you need to come to the conclusion that you are simply not good at this game.”

“Am  _ too _ !  _ Just Dance _ was  _ made  _ in  _ Korea _ ! I’m great at it!”

“Yong Soo, I looked it up last time you made that claim.  _ Just Dance _ was designed in Italy and in France. By a company that originated in France,” Natalya reminded him. Yong Soo wiped the sweat from his brow, rolling his eyes.

“That’s just what they  _ want  _ you to think,” Yong Soo reminded her. Natalya opened her mouth, probably to spout some more  _ lies _ , but then there was a knock at the door. Yong Soo hurried to get it, pulling open the door. 

It was Gupta, shifting from foot to foot in the hallway. 

“Ayyy!” Yong Soo greeted him with finger guns. “What brings you here, Gupta?!” It had been three weeks-ish since they’d first met. Yong Soo and Gupta sat together during their early morning lecture and Gupta was good friends with two of their neighbors-- Sadiq from across the hall and Heracles from above them-- but that was about it. Gupta was just kinda doing his own thing, living in his own dorm on campus, pursuing his major, the works. 

The Egyptian fiddled a little with his keffiyeh before taking a deep breath and stating his case. “I… have noticed that you and Natalya have yet to find the roommate you are looking for… And, well, the dormitories on campus seem fine on paper, but then when the bill came in the mail, on top of all other expenses… And I have good friends that live in this building and they assure me that this is a good decision for me to make… And, I was wondering if your offer to have  _ me _ as your third roommate was still open for consideration on your part…?” he said all formally as if worried he was going to make a fool out of himself. Yong Soo whipped around to look at Natalya, wondering if she was hearing the same thing he was. Natalya looked just as intrigued as he was. 

“Yeah! I mean  _ absolutely _ ! We’re still down for that, yes! Come on in! We can talk! We were just playing some  _ Just Dance _ !” Yong Soo opened the door wide for him. Gupta stepped inside, waving to Natalya with his usual lack of outward expression, but Yong Soo could tell he was happy and relieved. Something about the way he stepped, firmly, and as if he was optimistic about the possibility of making this apartment his temporary home. 

“Thank you,” Gupta said, his gratefulness making itself known in his voice. “I… brought a pot as a show of solidarity,” he informed them, reaching into his satchel. Yong Soo and Natalya shared another look.

“A pot? As in you brought us a single marijuana?” Yong Soo asked. “Even one marijuana is illegal, Gupta.” Gupta gave him a look as if it physically pained him not to roll his eyes (though Natalya didn’t hold back). 

“No,” was the answer. He pulled out a legit Egyptian clay pot thing out of his bag, though. And that was less illegal and a metric ton _ cooler _ !

“ _ WOOOAH _ !” Yong Soo exclaimed. “IS THIS, LIKE, ANCIENT OR SOMETHING?!” Yong Soo gasped at all the possibilities now rolled out before him. “ _ CAN I EAT CEREAL FROM AN ARTIFACT OF ANCIENT TIMES _ ?!” Natalya snorted at her roommate; Gupta’s face remained neutral, but slightly confused and/or concerned. Well, surely there was some internal amusement in there somewhere, but  _ gosh darnit _ it was quickly becoming one of Yong Soo’s primary goals to make the Egyptian smile and  _ laugh _ . It was what Yong Soo  _ did _ . But if this new roommate was going to be a hard egg to crack,  _ so be it _ . He would have milk coming out his friend’s nose if it was the last thing he did.

Actually probably not; Yong Soo was rather fond of not dying. But he was going to try really hard. That much was for sure. 

“It is not ancient, no. I made it myself,” Gupta clarified for the two of them. 

“It’s still hella cool, though.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I eat cereal out of it?”

“... Well, I don’t see why you  _ couldn’t _ ; it is a sturdy piece…” 

“Would it insult your super talented artistic abilities and/or Egyptian aesthetic if I used this for a container of processed breakfast grains?” Yong Soo wanted to make sure. 

“No. As a matter of fact, it seems like an intriguing idea to repurpose a pottery piece for,” Gupta told him thoughtfully. Man, Yong Soo liked this kid. And he was  _ so _ going to make him laugh. And they were going to be the best of friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> APH Egypt sells other countries pots in the manga. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. (눈_눈)

Gupta Muhammad Hassan was not one for regretting decisions; he greatly preferred to take challenges as they came and work with them. It led to new places and to new experiences, after all. Was he adventurous? Not particularly. He was reserved. He kept to himself. He was just living his life; he was a simple man. He did not ask for much, but he was plenty prepared to _live_ his life and _take_ some opportunities.

It just so happened that life led him, of all people, here, of all places. He could not complain. America was a beautiful country with a wide array of new sights, sounds, and people. America was also the country that he just so happened to be pursuing his higher education in. It just sort of happened.

Much like it just sort of happened that he was now living with two people that he could barely call acquaintances for the sake of financial stability.

And it just sort of happened that he, a quiet man, now shared a room with the louder of the two; a man that was as determinedly extroverted as one could be. If one could be _determinedly_ extroverted, that is.

Not only did he share the room and the apartment and the school with said avid, fulltime extrovert, but happenstance would have it that the two also shared the same sexual and romantic orientation. It did not matter how different they were, for neither were interested in the so-revered sexual and romantic relationships of the world.

Yong Soo was very outspoken about this lack of interest; Gupta was not. That was okay. Actually, Gupta found this similarity incredibly comforting. Not only did it make sharing the living space less uncomfortable, as Yong Soo was _not_ in a relationship with Ms. Braginsky, but it was also nice to know that he could connect with his roommate on at least some level despite all differences. On another hand, it was _also_ nice to know that someone would so outspokenly announce and defend such an identity.

However, Yong Soo remained quite an interesting character.

Gupta told Sadiq about it as they sat together in the weaving circle. The two of them were the only men in the group. They were also the only members under the age of 60. It was a social group that Gupta had seen advertised in the local library and him, not having many friends in this _country_ , let alone city, decided it was something that seemed interesting.

Sadiq had been the only one there that seemed not to want to pinch his cheek or ask about his _keffiyeh_ and whether it was handmade or factory made.

The two got along fine, both foreigners, both of minority religions, both college students, both apparently interested enough in weaving blankets amongst other things. Gupta was also acquainted with one of Sadiq’s _own_ acquaintances, Heracles, so that gave them some talking points aside from knitted versus woven fabrics.

Sadiq was going on and on about the Greek man as he wove a blanket, about halfway through with it-- the Turkish man was putting a lot of time and effort into the piece; Gupta couldn’t help but notice as he picked out each color and yarn with a careful eye. Sadiq claimed to hate him. He frequently went on rants about how annoying Heracles Karpusi was. The old women of the group ate up all of the gossip and loved to hear more, which was probably why Sadiq was so fond of the group-- they actually bothered to listen and care about his rants about Heracles.

The old women found it endearing, mostly, and would smile at him and ask if he had gotten the man out on a date yet. To which Sadiq would moan and groan about (but never really answer). Sadiq did, Gupta noticed, seem to spend quite a lot of time with a man that he found so ‘bratty’.

None of that mattered today, though, because all eyes were fixed on Gupta as the typically silent man spoke of his new roommate.

“I have lived with them for, what, a little over a week?” Gupta was saying, mostly to Sadiq but also to the rest of the group. “I am quite fond of Natalya despite the occasional feeling I get that she is favored by demons of ancient times and may kill me in my sleep; she is a good woman. Yong Soo is a good man as well, I will definitely never deny that, but… He is a film major,” Gupta told them, feeling like this summed up much. “I do not have any issue getting along with extroverted personalities as a generality, but… And it is not that I do not get along with my roommate, but…” Gupta sighed, focusing for the moment on the rhythm of his hands steadily weaving the fabric.

“Do I need to beat him up for you?” chimed in Myrtle, a tiny woman in a wheelchair with a pink floral bonnet. “No one messes with my weaving buddies--”

“No, thank you, I do not wish him harm,” Gupta assured her. “I consider him a friend at this point, I promise.”

“So what’s with all the but’s?” Sadiq questioned him.

“My late husband Abasi had a glorious butt,” Elea mused in her lovely Kenyan accent.

“He is a _film major_ ,” Gupta tried to stress to them all.

“So?” Sadiq scoffed.

“His inspiration for his projects are…”

“Annoying?” Sadiq offered.

“Sexual?” Pearl asked hopefully.

“Unusual,” Gupta decided. “They make sense only to the artist that it inspires. But his methods apparently include blasting a neverending supply of auto-tuned, peppy songs. Which typically includes him singing every word when _he_ is truly the one in need of the auto tune,” Gupta was not one to gossip, he truly was not, but times come in everyone’s life when they simply need to, as the Americans say, “talk shit” about those close to them to a circle of old women and one Turkish man. For Gupta, that time was now. And, oh boy, he was _really_ going to let his roommate have it. “And I do not care for this music selection!” he exclaimed in confession to the circle. It needed to be said. He felt relieved to have said it.

“ _Furthermore_ ,” he may as well mention the other things as well. “In his creative process, and I do not understand his film projects, but he needs a plethora of film-- quality cinematography, he says-- to piece together.” Gupta adjusted his keffiyeh as he collected his thoughts to recount all of the different instances of his friend’s wackiness; it was a newly developed nervous tic, Gupta had noticed. Honestly, he wore his keffiyeh in the US far more than he had at home in Egypt. In part because it helped to have that sense of home… But also because so many people found the Arabic headscarf so strange, and even a threat, which Gupta found equally amusing and unsettling in the land of freedom of religion (even if the keffiyeh wasn’t necessarily religious). In the land initially colonized with religious outcasts seeking freedom to practice. It kept people at a decent distance from him, which Gupta enjoyed _immensely_ , not being much of a people person. And it freaked silly people out, which Gupta had to admit he enjoyed as well.

“He likes to record his own sound effects, which occasionally include illegally purchased firecrackers being detonated inside a ceramic pot at 2 in the morning. And he likes taking shots of everyday life, such as running up to the table at breakfast for a closeup of my eggs because he likes the way the lighting looks. Or shots of Natalya sipping coffee in her pajamas outside in the morning because it has a realistic, ‘earthy humanity feel’ to it. What does that even mean?” Upon confused shakes of the head, he went on. “And last night! Just last night! He felt the need to film me brushing my teeth as I prepared for bed! I was only in a towel as I was straight out of the shower!” Ignoring the raised eyebrows and secretive smiles some of the women were giving each other as they dramatically fanned themselves at the thought, he finished his tale. “And then he runs away at full speed yelling back to me that I, and I quote here, ‘have a very nice bod. No homo.’” That brought quite a few delighted little titters from the ladies (and Sadiq). Gupta gestured helplessly. “And then he edits his film _while playing that music_ ,” Gupta crossed his arms with a harrumph of finality that quite effectively said ‘ _so there!_ ’.

“Have you told him any of this?” asked Betty Sue.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to kick his ass for you?” Myrtle wanted to confirm.

“Does he still have any of that footage of you with the teeth brushing?” Pearl wanted to know.

“Sounds like a less annoying version of Heracles,” Sadiq said thoughtfully. Gupta waved them all away.

“Yong Soo is my friend. I should not have spoken so ill of him… I mean, he deserved it, but it was rather rude of me considering all he has done for me. I _do_ appreciate him along with Natalya,” he told all of them gently. That got him a chorus of ‘ _awwww's_. “And I also greatly appreciate all of you for listening to my silly ranting,” he addressed the weaving circle, which earned him even more ‘ _AWWWW_ ’s as well as a few cheek pinches and a quick one-armed hug from Sadiq.

“So… Anything new with Heracles, Mr. Adnan?” Betty Sue asked teasingly. Sadiq turned quite an impressive shade of red.

“Ugh. That brat? Nah.” Huh. That was a first, Gupta noted with slight interest. He also noted that Sadiq seemed to be holding something back, keeping something hidden, which the ladies also seemed to notice based on their sly looks at each other.

“Then I think we may call it a day, eh ladies?” Betty Sue suggested. The others nodded in agreement, already packing away their materials.

“Oh! Gupta!” Pearl called him over to help her up from her chair. “While I’m here...” she said, a frail arm looped around his shoulders to support herself and leaning against his chest like a schoolgirl at a dance. “Made ya somethin’!” she exclaimed proudly, brandishing the scarf that she had been working on for a couple weeks proudly. He smiled widely at her as she draped the bubblegum pink fabric around his neck for him. She patted his cheek fondly. “There we are. A handsome scarf for a handsome boy. Smile more, dearie; it suits you well,” she told him as he thanked her graciously for the gift. She waved him off. “Oh shush. It was no trouble! Now, I know it’s pink, but that seems to be coming back in style for you college boys, isn’t it?” Gupta actually had no clue in the world, but he nodded regardless.

“I _have_ been noticing many people in scarves and the color pink,” he told her honestly. He looked down at it in admiration for a moment. “I love it!” he decided. “I have not received a gift made with such craftsmanship and care in years,” he gave her a bow fit for a prince and kissed her knuckle. She pressed a hand to her heart, laughing at the display.

“You look good in it,” she told him, squeezing his arm fondly. She then frowned in an internationally recognized ‘concerned grandmother’ look. She poked at his ribs, making him yelp and shy away in surprise, though he honestly shouldn’t have been surprised. And he’d heard from Sadiq that Pearl had pinched his backside and declared it a ‘good firm tushy’ (which then had all the others looking too). What was it with old women and pinching and prodding at things? “You _could_ do with some meat on you, though,” she informed him. “Do you and your roommates need some casserole? Or meatloaf? I’m bringing you both. Goodness gracious, Gupta dear, I know that you aren’t interested in having a relationship, but you need _someone_ to cook good meals for you because you aren’t doing a great job yourself! Now, would you prefer green bean or poppyseed casserole?”

“And would you like some pie or cake as well?” Elea piped up.

“Perhaps some stew? I make a mean stew,” Myrtle announced.

 

“You will not be the regretting it,” Sadiq told him once they finally escaped to walk to their shared apartment building. “Even between the three of us, it took Carlos, Yeketrina, and me a couple days to finish Pearl’s meatloaf!” he said proudly. He then shrugged thoughtfully. “Also, she told me she brought me a gigantic meatloaf because she imagined _I_ had a gigantic meatloaf? What does that even _mean_? None of us can cook anything; of course we do not have large meatloaf. Carlos is of the feeling that she was not talking about this true ‘meatloaf’ _food_ , however.” Sadiq still seemed confused. Gupta sighed. Gupta was not confused. Americans and their euphemisms and innuendos. Not that referring to genitals (or perhaps… rear ends maybe?) as ‘meatloaf’ made much sense, but the slang did not have to make much logical sense so long as it could pass as vulgar in meaning. Gupta shrugged, not wanting to get into the topic too much, preferring to let Sadiq’s talking fill the silence on the way home.

It worked fine until Heracles appeared, greeting Gupta and pretending to ignore Sadiq. Gupta sighed internally, already sensing the electrically charged air that was a constant when Sadiq and Heracles were in the same area for any period of time.

He could sense it; probably more to do with body language than magic, but that’s usually not the general explanation of the feeling for those caught up in that ‘charge’ rather than those witnessing it. Sadiq glared at Heracles in a way that wasn’t hate or true annoyance but tried to be. Heracles pretended to ignore him in a way that felt so obvious that he was constantly aware of Sadiq’s presence it was almost laughable. Gupta walked in between them in a way that even _they_ should have gotten the gist that the Egyptian was completely aware of the games they probably were not even consciously playing.

How annoying.

It especially did not help matters that Gupta was significantly smaller than the two of them; making their suffocating tension even more _overbearing_.

Yet, the world class fools continued to pretend none of this existed and therefore so would Gupta. “I got my cat a bowtie today…” Heracles was saying in his slow, quietly thoughtful voice. “It buttons, so it is easy to get on.”

“Does the cat appreciate that?” Gupta asked, going ahead with attempting to make conversation before Sadiq snapped.

“... No… But he mostly sleeps all day anyway… I think he is too lazy to mind too much…” Heracles told him. Gupta nodded. Sadiq snorted dramatically loud.

“ _WOW_! That sounds _quite almost_ like _you_ , Karpusi!” Sadiq laughed at him, emphasizing the last four letters of Heracles’ surname.

“Was anyone… talking to you?” Heracles asked almost tiredly. Gupta entertained the mental image of melting into the pavement until he was just a keffiyeh and some American clothes. Sadiq, meanwhile, puffed up with pride.

“WELL, _I_ was talking to my good friend GUPTA here! And then _YOU_ came along to ignoring _ME_ in the middle of our CONVERS _ING_ ! Isn’t that right, Gupta?!” Gupta shrugged noncommittally. “AND ANOTHER _THING_!” Sadiq continued.

The trio walked along like that all the way home. Sadiq yelling, Heracles pretending to be bored and never raising his voice, which made Sadiq yell more, and Gupta appreciating the scenery of the college campus and the nice evening air. There came a time when Heracles had to continue up the stairs and Sadiq had to take the turn to his hallway. They went on a bit more, Sadiq yelling up at Heracles as he continued to ascend the stairs and Heracles talking down at Sadiq.

Gupta left them alone, fumbling for his house key instead of bothering any of his roommates with getting up to answer the door. Sadiq addressed him once more before slipping into the apartment across the hallway. “ _Sheesh_! Can you believe that guy? I am sorry you had to see that, Gupta. I’m gonna to home to have some tea. Good night!” he gave a friendly, neighborly wave as if he hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes arguing at an unnecessary volume with Heracles Karpusi.

Gupta opened the door to his home. Natalya was sprawled across the floor, stabbing a pencil into the carpet with a vengeance as she read what was required of her for a class. She looked up as he entered. He nodded to her respectfully and she nodded back. “Just a forewarning, Yong Soo is being more of a freak than usual,” she informed him, going back to her reading.

“What?” Gupta asked. She sighed.

“I thought you should know, seeing as you two share a room,” her expression softened a bit, revealing against her will that she actually did care for her friend’s well-being. “It’s some big project for his major. It’s got him stressing about finding an idea for it.” Gupta nodded in understanding and continued, more hesitantly than before, to his and Yong Soo’s room.

The door was closed when Gupta reached it. From behind the closed door, he could hear loud and off-key singing in Korean. Singing seemed to be one way that Yong Soo vented, Gupta had noticed. Today, he was singing even louder than usual. Gupta attempted to slip inside unnoticed.

Yong Soo was at his desk, surrounded by an incredibly eco-unfriendly amount of wadded paper. His headphones were plugged in and he was nearly screaming along to his K-Pop. Gupta tried so hard to move to his own side of the room without disrupting. Yong Soo, regrettably, noticed him. “GUPTA! MY MAIN BRO-GYPTIAN!” Yong Soo yelled at him over his music before turning it off. Gupta gave him a small wave. “Ah, pal. You won’t _believe_ the day I’ve had!”

“I heard you have a big project to be working on,” Gupta connected knowledgeably.

“I do! It’s the biggest film project we’ve had yet! And you know what else! It’s completely and utterly up to us what it’s about and how we do it! We’re getting graded for creativity and message and cinematography and stuff like that!” Yong Soo said it so excitably, but his eyes screamed for help.

“I am sure you will do fine,” Gupta said, aiming for the role of encouraging roommate but also not being experienced in the area.

“Thanks, but…” his eye twitched. Gupta noticed a couple open cans of energy drink on his desk. “I-I…” the words seemed to hurt him. He squirmed some more. “I don’t have any idea what to do!” He twirled around a couple times in his spinning desk chair and then flung himself over his work area, letting his head fall against it with a resounding _thunk_.

“It will come to you eventually.” Gupta felt like he was reading from a poorly written script.

“ _Help meeee_ ,” Yong Soo whined. In theory, Gupta could turn down the request. But theories don’t always play well with reality.  

So, Gupta sifted through Yong Soo’s discarded paper wads of ideas. He could see why they had been discarded. “Also all those are totally copyrighted, sorry, Guppy,” Yong Soo said, muffled by the desk.

Gupta was almost done with reviewing Yong Soo’s crumpled papers when he stumbled across an idea that actually… didn’t quite belong in the trash. It had some potential, Gupta was thinking. “A study about asexuality?” Gupta asked. Yong Soo perked up by a fraction.

“What potential could _that_ have?” Yong Soo asked, sounding a little like a kicked puppy.

“A lot of potential, actually. The history of people wishing to remain detached from romance or sexual relations, i.e. something far outside the norm, is actually quite fascinating because it isn’t lacking of oppression as one might think--”

“Nah I ain’t doing history, Gupta. Sorry. I know we aces have been a super cool and underrated lot since forever, but look, that’s a lot of digging through archives for primary sources and speculation through centuries of erasure. Plus, I have an aesthetic to keep up, ya see,” Yong Soo tried to explain to him with the use of many wide but not necessarily _necessary_ hand gestures. Gupta blinked a couple times.

“An aesthetic to uphold…?” Gupta wanted to clarify. Yong Soo looked him dead in the eye.

“Adorable and chic, yes.”

“And you couldn’t make a history documentary at all adorable or chic…? It may require creativity, but that _is_ your major--”

“ _Listen_ …” Yong Soo held up his hands, placating.

“Yes?”

“That’s all I’ve got. Sorry. Here, let’s add ‘ _modern_ ’ to my aesthetic too. History don’t count, my Brogyptian.”

“Well… What about a documentary…” Gupta started. Yong Soo was already making a face. “A… Cute and chic documentary....” Gupta continued, recapturing his roommate’s attention. He was fumbling at this point, though. “About the... modern asexual…?” Gupta said, more of a question than a true suggestion.

“WOAH THAT TOTALLY GIVES ME A SUPER AWESOME IDEA.”

“... Does it?”

“IT DOES!”

“Glad to help,” Gupta said with a relieved sigh, making his way over to his bed, hoping to get some reading in.

Of course, that was hard to do when Yong Soo opted to blast popular, bubbly music from the early 2000s. Gupta gave him a sour look that Yong Soo felt from across the room. “DON’T WORRY, GUPPY, IT HELPS WITH MY CREATIVE GENIUS! I’LL GO TO BED SOON!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait and slow updating, guys! But here's a chapter from Gupta's eyes! Let me know what you think!


	5. ( ु⁎ᴗ_ᴗ⁎)ु.｡oO

Yong Soo did not go to sleep until 4 in the morning. He did, however, turn down his totally sweet music when Natalya threatened to perform some unsavory acts upon him with a knife. For a human being who was majoring in criminal science and intending to become a forensic pathologist for the sake of a fascination with autopsies and causes of death, she sure had a concerning appreciation of knives.

Natalya was pretty great. He was proud of her. Occasionally frightened by her. But she was regardless one of his best friends in the whole wide world.

Threats with a knife lowering the volume of his music at some unnamed point of the night notwithstanding, Yong Soo was incredibly excited in that way that only those who know what it’s like to become entirely absorbed in your creative process entirely understand. Humans have all sorts of idiosyncrasies. Yong Soo was just one of those people that forgot that he needed things for basic survival when he was onto something that could potentially be great.

He woke up with his frenzied notes and ideas sticking to his face at his desk, which he had fallen asleep on apparently. Gupta was already gone for a productive day of classes. Groggily, Yong Soo reviewed some of his papers, mentally noting that going digital with his creative process would probably be good for the environment. He felt that familiar pulse of excitement that came with artistic inspiration. Oh, this was going to be great. This was going to be marvelous.

It was only going to take an incredible amount of effort that Yong Soo did not know where to begin with!

“Natalya! Natalya!” Yong Soo called, leaping up and zipping through the small apartment in an attempt to find his friend. He found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping coffee. She looked up at him questioningly. He’d brought papers with him to show her. He spread them out before her on the countertop. “Okay, so I have this idea for a documentary…” he began as she poked through his incomprehensible jumble of writing.

“Asexuality?” she read before he could give a grand presentation of his theme.

“Yes! The modern asexual! That’s me! Among others!” he announced, gesticulating wildly. Natalya shrugged.

“Cool. Looks like you’ve got some ideas,” she nodded at the papers, pausing for a sip of coffee. “Have fun with that.”

“This is going to be great! It’s going to be huge! Oh, Nat! What _if it goes huge_? Viral? Newsworthy? It’s going to be newsworthy, Nat!” She gave him a half salute with her mug.

“You’ve got some big dreams, kid.” Darn right he did.

So as any self-respecting film major with a half-formed idea coagulating in their head would do, he grabbed his camera. It felt like equipping for battle.

Only, the thing about making a documentary with only the basic concept of the thing to work with, is that you only have the basic concept to work with. Which makes it hard. Because you have to start somewhere and figuring out _where_ to start is hard.

Yong Soo ran out the door.

It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he should go back inside, have breakfast, take a shower, put on clothes that he hadn’t worn all the previous day, etc. etc. But pausing would only hinder the creative juices. He had to keep those juices flowing! When you’ve got a deadline on finishing your masterpiece, you just can’t risk any filmmaker’s block!

Note: filmmaker’s block is worse than writer's block because you can’t bullshit your way through recording and editing film as easily as you can spew words.

Okay, okay! He was out of the house. He had his camera. He had his basic idea. He had a whole day ahead of him with no classes! Now what?

This whole thing was kind of totally inspired by himself, so it couldn’t be _that_ difficult, right?

Asexuality. Aromanticism. Modernity. Life.

It all had to piece together into a beautiful, intriguing, poignant work of art. Yong Soo looked down at his trusty video camera for suggestions. The camera did not offer up any ideas. How rude of it.

Alright, so what? Asexuals. Aromantics. They’re all up in this world; living life, doing their thing, existing. Existing. Well, some boneheads liked to try to argue with _Yong Soo himself_ that being asexual, that being aromantic, that his own existence on this big blue Earth, was fake.

Maybe he should start there? Throw out some basic stuff, dictionary definition stuff. Throw in some primary sources of peeps on the aro/ace spectrum beautifully, miraculously, shockingly, existing. The fact that something _exists_ is never a bad place to start.

Primary sources, though… Hmm... He could do interviews! Slap some tongue-in-cheek humor in there while still being educational and not _too_ offensively bashing the poor, ignorant souls people like Yong Soo faced everyday.

Yong Soo was pacing around the campus like a madman as he clutched to his camera like a lifeline. He was getting some funny stares from mostly freshmen. Most other students had been there long enough to know that such strange behavior was rather typical among the stressed, exhausted, over-caffeinated student body. Yong Soo didn’t care about the stares. He cared about his project.

He needed to talk this out with somebody. He needed to brainstorm. He needed somebody to bounce ideas off of. He should probably get some brain food into his system. He could do this over brunch, maybe? With _who_? Not to mention he also would need some dang aro/ace spectrum people to _interview_.

 _LIGHT BULB_.

Now, who was just about the coolest aro-ace Egyptian roommate? Who was absolutely _dandy_ to bounce ideas off of because he was such a blank slate so often? Where was Gupta at? Yong Soo would need him immediately.

But wait. Gupta was at class. How long would that take? Pulling somebody who actually cared about school out of the school that they were paying thousands and thousands of dollars to attend did not usually bode _well_. What was he supposed to do? Yong Soo was ready to begin _now_ and he would require Gupta’s assistance.

Yong Soo was looking around frantically for answers when somebody put a hand on his shoulder with a gentle, yet strong (and mildly painful due to fingernails) grip. “NATALYA!” he exclaimed joyously. “Look, I need help and I need Gupta right now; it’s a creative emergency! Listen, do you think if we caused a diversion we could sneak him out and he’d still get the credits or should we--”

“Yong Soo,” Natalya said, voice devoid of emotion.

“Yes?”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You can wait for Gupta to be out of class.”

“What part of _creative emergency_ missed your earholes? I can say it again for you. I can even say it in Korean, if you need that.”

“What you can do,” Natalya suggested with a soft tone that left no wiggle room for argument, “is go back to the apartment and take a shower. It’s your turn for laundry too, so you can spend your free time that way.”

“ _Creative_. _Emergency_.”

“Hygiene. Household chores.” Seeing that Yong Soo had yet to be persuaded, she continued. “Look at it this way: maybe inspiration will come to you in the shower. Gupta can be reached _after_ his classes.”

“Ya know, you may be onto something!” Yong Soo stroked at an imaginary beard thoughtfully. Natalya nodded. She yawned. She took a drink of coffee.

“Also,” she added. “My sister--” Yong Soo interrupted her with a gasp.

“YEK-Y!”

“Yes, Yekatrina. She wanted to let us know that we’re invited to a party at her sorority house.” Natalya scowled in disgust. She didn’t think too highly of the preppy girls or the way they talked about her kind, naive older sister behind her back, but Yeketrina adored being part of the club.

“Eeeh,” Yong Soo shrugged noncommittally, making a face. “As much as I love your sister… She deserves healthier environments...? And those big house parties really cramp my style of, you know, drug-free spaces and good sexual decisions.”

“Please,” Natalya looked suddenly desperate, surprising him. “Yong Soo, please? She really wants me to come. I really don’t want to go. I really don’t want to disappoint her.” Nobody wanted to disappoint Yeketrina, to be honest. She was an angel. “She wants me to meet ‘the girls’” Nat made air quotes and rolled her eyes. Those girls weren’t half the friends to Yeketrina that she thought they were even despite Natalya’s warnings.

Yong Soo made a great show about sighing, but Natalya knew that he’d be there for her when she needed him to be.

“I _GUESS_ ,” he groaned theatrically. “ _SOMEBODY_ has to be the designated driver for you irresponsible children.” Natalya let out a breath.

“Thank you so much.” Yong Soo gave her a bear hug. She slugged him on the arm playfully. It would probably bruise. He rubbed it. “And, hey,” she was going for an optimistic tone here. She almost succeeded. “Maybe if there’s as many stupid people there as I think there will be, you could have some material for your project.”

“PROS OF ASEXUALITY,” Yong Soo waved a large arc in the air as if addressing an invisible heading. “Less STDs gained from nights at sorority parties.” He laughed at his own hilarity. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Shower first.”

“Gotcha.”


	6. ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪♬

Okay, so when Yong Soo agreed to attend a sorority party, he was kind of expecting some time to meditate on that…? Or something? But no. For some reason, he’d been assuming that the party would be held the next day. Sometime later in the week, perhaps. But no.

Natalya accidentally left out the little detail of, oh, _by the way_ , that party? It’s today.

No inspiration had come to Yong Soo in the shower for his project, which was an awful shame, because he still really had no clue what he was doing. He needed _Gupta_. Yong Soo got the chores done and everything while he was waiting for him!

He took a walk, hoping that would get the blood flowing to his brain and an entire script would just come to him. He lay on the ground a while in the grass outside for no particular reason, but it felt like the right thing to do. Maybe through basking in natural light, there would be some divine intervention telling him to go get some sunscreen on and maybe Yong Soo could make the deal that, in exchange for his self-care, the divine presence would carve him a fully developed script onto a stone.

Sadly, Yong Soo returned to his apartment without a script.

At the apartment, he drank some milk that he totally didn’t steal from Alfred and Kiku or anything. The milk offered no inspiration. He stood in the middle of his room, staring at the ace flag hanging on his wall. The flag offered no inspiration. He looked through footage he had on his camera. Nothing he could use. He looked through the footage he had saved to his flash drive. There was a clip of the aromantic, asexual Gupta brushing his teeth shirtless. He probably shouldn’t use that.

It was about this point that he texted Natalya and found out that the party was that quickly-approaching evening.

So he hoped to find his inspiration as he looked through his wardrobe for proper party attire. Maybe wearing some ace pride stuff would dissuade silly people from trying to initiate silly things. Maybe foregoing ace pride stuff would make for more grand opportunities for his documentary. Maybe he should just go naked to better reflect how NONE OF THIS WAS HELPING HIM THINK UP IDEAS. How nudity would symbolize his creative block was unclear and entirely irrelevant.

So he made a compromise (and left nudity out of this decision). A simple _No._ t-shirt. It was totally some hipster grunge chic and also lowkey ace chic so it worked out. He spread the shirt out on his bed where its majesty could properly be taken in. Let it be known that there was a vague spark in the back of Yong Soo’s mind, which told him nothing, but it was there and it was _frustratingly_ encouraging.

So Yong Soo went with the spark that was absolutely trying to tell him something. He was jumping on his bed, staring at the shirt now draped on his desk chair, and saying the word ‘no’ in a variety of voices hoping for something to happen when Gupta returned home.

“GUPTA!” Yong Soo may or may not have screamed at him and Gupta may or may not have turned right back around the moment he laid eyes on the half-crazed film major, but Yong Soo had already leaped from the bed to pat the Egyptian sportingly on the back.

“Good afternoon,” Gupta greeted him. He threw Yong Soo a bone. “What is wrong?” the ‘ _with you_ ’ went unsaid.

“Well, Gupta, my main man, I am having trouble coming up with genius ideas for my documentary and I would like to enlist _your_ wonderful self to assist me in this endeavor and also I am being coerced into attending a sorority party with Natalya and would greatly appreciate you descending into that hell with me because you’re the coolest roommate and I will put an extra egg in your Ramen noodles if you say yes.”

It took Gupta a moment to catch up with Yong Soo and process the onslaught of information. “I have homework…” was Gupta’s excuse.

“Okay, but listen, just think of that extra egg in your very own Ramen noodle meal and the emotional support you will be providing me and without which I will be lost.” Gupta sighed deeply, either at Yong Soo or to himself or both. He straightened himself firmly.

“I have homework to be completed tonight; I will not be attending any party.”

“Understandable. _But_ , I do need your help with my documentary.”

“And how will I be able to assist you, Yong Soo?” Gupta inquired.

“That is a good question!” he praised his roommate. Yong Soo had to think for a moment, having forgotten precisely how he would use Gupta. He snapped his fingers when it came to him a few long, awkward seconds later. “BRAINSTORMING! ALSO,” Yong Soo reigned in his voice slightly, deciding that Gupta probably would appreciate it if Yong Soo yelled at him less. “I’ll need to interview some ace-spec people for this because-- believe it or not--- point of views besides my own exist and I’d like to drag those out of the dark. Drag ‘em right out of the closet, if you will.”

“I do not consider myself in the closet,” Gupta pointed out. “I just do not...” he thought his wording over carefully with a small shrug “make it known…?”

“And that’s so cool! And that’s why I’ll need your help!”

“I see…” Gupta shifted around on his feet. “Will you be needing anything of me at this _moment_ , though?”

“You’re wanting to get started on your homework?” Yong Soo speculated. Gupta shrugged again, reasonably. Damn him to a life of success for being such a dedicated student.

“OKAY. I support you, Guppington--”

“That’s a new one.”

“-- Yeah I dunno where it came from-- Now, quick question before I leave you alone, what does a responsible, fantastically awesome man like myself do at a _party_?”

* * *

 

Gupta did not know what Yong Soo should do at the party. So when he walked up the sorority house that sat blazing with lights and possibly weed, he gripped his camera like a weapon. If anything went _really_ wrong, maybe he _could_ hit somebody with it.

The porch was adorned with cutesy pink Christmas lights. All these inviting lights reminded Yong Soo of that monster fish thing from _Finding Nemo_ that lured its pray in with pretty lights. The comparison, shockingly, did not make Yong Soo feel more prepared for this as his body vibrated with the bass tones of the blasting speakers before he even walked through the door.

And then he received a surprise face-full of boobs as somebody flung themself at him with the force of a truck. “I’m so happy to see you, Yong Soo!” Yeketrina greeted him, voice full of joy and conviction. Yong Soo hugged her back with a laugh.

“Aww, thanks for inviting me, Yek-y!”

“Please refrain from suffocating him. I need someone to do the laundry and fill the role of the bane of my existence.” There was Natalya. Yeketrina released the lanky Korean, who would have been snapped in half by his friend’s affection before he would have suffocated. Now, Yong Soo prided himself with being the tallest and mightiest hunk in his family. That did not stop Yeketrina from being a head taller than him with arms that could envelop anyone in the best hugs ever but also probably hold a cow in a headlock.

Natalya, however, only had an inch or two on Yong Soo, so he had that going for him.

The lovely Yeketrina Braginsky beamed around herself with pride. “I put up the lights!” she told Yong Soo. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

“They’re awesome,” Yong Soo agreed with a nod. Natalya was a dark shadow behind her older sister, glaring down anyone that dared look at Yeketrina with anything less than utter respect. Yeketrina’s short hair was swept from her face with a headband, she wore a simple imitation-pearl necklace and matching bracelet with a vintage floral dress. Natalya, meanwhile, was looking like a stern businesswoman with her long hair tied back in a loose bun along with her black slacks and waistcoat.

“--And I helped the girls pick out what cheese plates we got and I made sure that there was some nice punch for our underage guests!” Yeketrina gushed happily, hands clasped neatly behind her back.

“Bet someone spiked it,” Natalya grumbled. Yeketrina pressed a hand to her chest, flustered by the thought of someone doing such a thing.

“Why would somebody do that?”

“‘Cause assholes do that at parties,” Natalya sighed.

“Excuse me, but if some _silly goose_ , decided to put alcohol in the punch, I could always make some more!” Yeketrina informed her sister with a determined nod, gathering herself up severely.

“Right,” Natalya’s tone was flat. Yeketrina smiled sweetly down at her before sweeping back into the sorority house. Natalya hesitated beside Yong Soo as she went to follow her. “Yong Soo, don’t drink the punch,” Nat advised him.

“Wasn’t planning on it. I assumed this party was BYOW,” he displayed the plastic bottle he’d brought with him. “Bring your own water,” he explained needlessly. Natalya rolled her eyes, but she was smirking.

“So, I’m gonna go get smash drunk and you’re going to carry my ass home when we’re done here. Capiche?”

“Please don’t kill anyone,” were Yong Soo’s only words of warning. Natalya’s lip curled in disgust as she shot a sour look through the door.

“No promises if people keep thinking they can gawk at my sister like they’ve been.”

“I’d prefer not to be a witness at a trial.”

“If some pussy runs tail between their legs to the cops, that’s _their_ problem, not mine.”

“I assure you it will be your problem if the police get involved.”

“Not if I murder them and dispose of the evidence first.”

“Now we’re talking,” Yong Soo winked. “But please. No trouble tonight?” Natalya shrugged, which did not make Yong Soo feel reassured. “You don’t have any knives on you do you?” Nat scoffed.

“No, because I may feel compelled to _use one_ on these idiots.” Yong Soo, for lack of anything better to do, patted her on the head. She gave him a withering look for it, but she relented. “This is your cue to stay with us,” she stage whispered/yelled over the music. Ah, of course.

Yong Soo turned on his camera as Natalya held the door open for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The party chapter was getting too long so I split it off here to give an update. Sorry about the wait!


	7. ♪(┌・。・)┌

It was loud; that was Yong Soo’s first impression. He actually had no idea how the sound quality was going to turn out on the video because of the sheer _level_ of deafening chaos that came with what some people called a good time. He felt the bass in his bones. He hoped the words to the music didn’t matter to anybody because deciphering them was a lost cause.

It was packed to the point of gross, was Yong Soo’s second impression that he received upon following Natalya into the crowd to 1. Grab Nat a red solo cup of questionably legal liquid and then 2. Locate Yeketrina.

Natalya downed the first cup like a shot and _then_ went to find her sister. Bodies writhed to the rhythm, anonymous in the colored lighting. It smelled like sweat, alcohol, and alcoholic sweat and Yong Soo could presume that it was only going to get worse as the night wore on. What a time to be alive.

Yong Soo followed Natalya like a puppy. He kept the camera mostly focused on the back of her as she led him this way and that. He thought it made for a pretty neat effect. It might be fun to speed up during editing instead of just choosing bits and pieces to use; if it looked like he pictured, it’d make the speed of life, the commotion, and the distortion of reality more tangible for the audience.

But the people around him had _no_ respect for the art of documenting life because somebody had the _gaul_ to _grab at_ his camera and suggest that he stop watching life happen through a lens and dance (i.e grind and grope). While a poetic way to put it, Random Human _smudged the lens_. For Pete’s sake. He had to stop to politely decline and wipe off finger residue.

Reality hit him real fast when he looked back up and realized that Natalya hadn’t noticed he’d stopped. And looking around didn’t even reveal her location! Oh _NO_ he was _LOST_. As he was not the type of person to stay put like you’re supposed to do when lost, he went wandering after his friend.

“Okay, camera,” Yong Soo said, ya know, to the camera. As one does when lost and alone. “Where’s Natalya? Where’s Yeketrina?” The camera offered no answers. There was a group of girls through the crowd that was sizing him up like a piece of meat. Yeah, he’d rather _not_ get involved in that. He scooted further away into the crowd.

There were people dancing, some of them innocently, most others… less innocently. As in, it couldn’t even be called ‘suggestive’ anymore; they were doing everything that ‘suggestive’ was suggesting. As in, why did people feel the need to make nasty displays of public affection? Was it even affection with many of them? Or was it just a random person with a body?

If he was going to be quite honest, before someone explained it to him otherwise, he’d always thought that this idea of seeing a human being and feeling the immediate desire to do _untoward_ things with them-- even under the influence of alcohol-- was something of a joke. Like, immediate (or gradually gained, for that matter) sexual attraction didn’t compute with Yong Soo’s view of the world. But it was Yong Soo’s view of the world, apparently, that didn’t compute with most other citizens of the world.

There he’d been, assuming that everybody would get with their very best and/or most aesthetically pleasing acquaintance, start doing that kissing stuff at some level of closeness, marry them, and have sex because it felt good and that’s what married people do. But apparently there’s these things called _romantic attraction_ as well as _sexual attraction_ that were confusing as hell and took years and years and years of Yong Soo’s life for him only to figure out that he experienced _neither_ and desired _neither_ a romantic relationship nor a sexual relationship.

Here, displayed before him in all of its natural glory, were people looking someone up and down once before pulling ‘em in to see if they could get laid.

What a wonderful world.

He got some mildly appropriate footage of sexual beings doing suggestively sexual things. During the interview process, he’d have to ask his interviewees how _they_ had come to realize they were aro-ace spec. Along that train of thought, having some _not_ aro-ace spec peeps explain how they knew that they _weren’t_ might be interesting.

Yong Soo peered around the crowd once more, doing a sweep with his camera as he looked for his friends. Who continued to be unseen. Great. How could a sociable guy feel so alone in a room full of people? Though, he supposed, this wasn’t a prime environment to make _friends_ in. Too loud. Too dark. Anybody that decided to meet someone new probably didn’t have _friendship_ on the brain.

Maybe if he went to the kitchen he could find his fellow misfits.

First step: find the kitchen.

Yong Soo, after managing to struggle and duck and dodge and weave his way through smelly people biting at each other’s necks like vampires, found a wall. Yay. Hello, wall.

Yong Soo followed the wall. He found a door! The door led to a closet. Yong Soo had no desire to go back into the closet. Har har. Never a bad time for some humor about how openly queer you are. Which is a lie. There are some times that are very, very bad times. He moved along.

There was hallway, a dark one, down which he had no desire to go.

AND THEN, finally, blessedly, he found the way to the kitchen. Naturally, the kitchen was crowded too, but it was _slightly_ less loud. There were clearly a good number of people that liked the bit of distance between themselves and the living room debauchery. Yong Soo filmed them milling about. He got some looks for filming people milling about because people often like to do their milling without being filmed.  

He did the safe thing and started yelling Natalya and Yeketrina’s names. No one came running. He got a few people that told him to shut up, though, so he knew he could be heard.

Yong Soo made his way around the kitchen with a little bit of elbowing. Neither of his Eastern European gals were there. With a great sigh of annoyance, Yong Soo prepared himself to brave the living room once more when, “SOO-Y!”

Oh, well that worked too. Yong Soo spun around to meet his friend’s hug, as he was a big hugger-- this description both because he was big and he hugged and because he was an individual who hugged often. As expected, Alfred F. Jones wrapped him in a tight bear hug, lifting him off the ground. Why did he befriend so many people who were taller and stronger than him when he liked to consider himself tall and strong? “Wassup, Al?!” Yong Soo greeted.

“Dude, I so totally didn’t expect to see you here!” Alfred took a moment to celebrate the serendipity. “I got invited here by some of the sorority girls!” he explained. “Ya know, the ones who keep calling me their gay best friend even though I’ve explained to them, like, a million times that I’m bi.”

“Ah. Those girls.”

“Yeah, but, hey, I think they’re starting to recognize my bisexuality based on the fact that they tried to rope me into a threesome the second I got here.” This was not an accomplishment and Al’s exaggerated gagging motion and eye roll suggested he didn’t think it was either.

“The natural step forward, of course,” Yong Soo nodded sagely, smirking along with one of his besties.

“Oh, but wait, my hombre, there’s more!” he snorted. “I showed up with Kiks, as I do, because we’ve literally been in a committed long term relationship since high school. Which they know. I point him out when they try to be inclusive by including me in their menage à trois, and ya know what they do?”

“Doubt I wanna know."

“They suggest a foursome.”

“Classy.”

“Yeah. I was ready to leave, but Kiku decided that he would give the party a chance. _My_ Kiku decides _he_ wants to stay at the party! Can you believe it? He says that he’s after the refreshments, but _I_ think he wants to dance and is too shy to admit it,” Alfred grinned brightly.

“ _My_ big brother wanting to be vaguely interesting? Unbelievable.”

“I resent that,” said Kiku, whose approach Yong Soo had been very much aware of. Alfred slung an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulder. Kiku leaned into him, sipping lightly at the liquor in his hand. “And another matter: Yong Soo, you do realize that we pay good money for our milk, do you not?” Wow. The first thing he brings up is how Yong Soo took their milk. What a conversationalist.

“What? You can’t even share with family? Also, Alfred, I want you to know that when I steal from your guys’ apartment, I’m stealing from my brother and not you because you’re nice to me and he is not.”

“Thanks, Soo.”

“No problem, Al.”

“Please stop stealing from us,” Kiku repeated himself.

“So what’re you doing here, Soo-y?” Alfred asked.

“I’m here to be Nat’s emotional support.” Alfred and Kiku both turned to look for the frightening presence of Natalya Braginsky. “And be the person that stops her from killing people. What can I say? This party blows but I’m just such an awesome friend.”

“Um?” Alfred raised a finger in question. “Where…?”

“Oh, I’m also entirely failing at being an awesome friend because I have managed to lose her. I mean, if we start hearing bloodcurdling screams, that’s probably her doing, so…”

“Dude!” Alfred whined, glancing around the room uneasily. Nat gave him the heebie jeebies. Nat enjoyed having this knowledge.

“Are you filming something?” Kiku inquired, nodding to the camera before his boyfriend could fret some more. Yong Soo had been kinda tuning out Kiku, as the best of siblings do, but then the word ‘ _filming_ ’ reached his ears. He perked up.

“Filming? Yeah I’m filming!” Yong Soo held up his camera proudly. “OOH! GUYS! GUESS WHAT?!” Kiku sighed inwardly, not asking him what.

“WHAT?!” Alfred caught onto the excitement, though. Alfred was a real pal.

“I’m doing a documentary for class!”

“DUDE! That’s so totally cool! What’s it about?!”

“Remember that this is all copyrighted, but I’m doing it over-- get this!-- _asexuality_. And I’m gonna need footage. Lots of footage. There’s a lot of people experiencing a lot of sexual attraction at this party so I figured maybe I’d get some anti-examples or something. Plus, the lights and the vibe look cooler on camera than it actually is, so maybe I’ll do a thing explaining that aro/ace spec people aren’t sticks in the mud because, hey, I went to a party once and I’ve got video evidence to prove how hip I am.”

“Sweet! Are you gonna do interviews?”

“Hell yeah I’m gonna do interviews! Wanna be in one?”

“DUDE, I LOVE ATTENTION BEING ON ME! But I’m not aro/ace? Am I an anti-example?”

“You’re an anti-example! Which isn’t a bad thing! I’m just bringing attention to another chunk of the rainbow. You can help, like, explain how you know that you experience different kinds of attraction.”

“That’s cool! It’s just that. I dunno… _how_ I know I’m attracted to people…? I just… do? Because I just… _am_ attracted to people?”

“And I’m just not! So we’ve got an understanding of each other!”

“Sure, I guess!” They did a cool bro fist bump and neither of them even missed. Kiku, meanwhile, was busy sucking down fermented whatever-plant-that-particular-liquid-is-made-of. Natalya and Yeketrina were still missing.

Kiku looked up at Alfred and Alfred looked down at Kiku and they shared one of those weird, meaningful couple moments. Note: these couple moments where one knows what the other is thinking are somehow different than those _best friend_ moments where one knows what the other is thinking and Yong Soo honestly had no idea _why_. Might be some romantic ogling factor, Yong Soo suspected, but he didn’t entirely know.

“Hey, it was cool seeing you around, Soo-y! We’re gonna go do party stuff! Good luck with your film!” And just like that, they were gone and Yong Soo was, again, stuck trying to find Natalya and Yeketrina on his own. But he was reassured by his brief encounter with Al and Kiku! It was a friendly reminder of the big, beautiful, messy, confusing, and endlessly complex web of differing human experiences regarding love and attraction and relationships.

Ooh, this was some juicy material he was getting into here! And he actually had some pretty great footage along those lines! He’d definitely need to creep on his friend and his brother and get some queer couple-y footage... He also wanted some cheesy, artsy photos of some rainbows because, ya know, _LGBT+ people_ and also _spectrums_. But did he want a natural, _sky_ rainbow? It’d have to rain. How long would it take to get it to rain? Would he need to hire some old medicine man to perform a rain dance?

Sprinklers. Sprinklers made rainbows. That could be fun. First step: get a sprinkler. Or he could find someone else that had a sprinkler. He could get his interviewees all together and have a big sprinkler party! There would be no sex or alcohol and there would be rainbows everywhere and they could fly some pride flags and it would be glorious.

But for now, he supposed he could appreciate the beautiful, natural diversity among humans experiencing love, attraction, and relationships in their many different forms.

Yong Soo nodded confidently to himself and strutted right back out into the living room, camera filming in his hand. He was immediately hit with a _wall_ of heat and concentrated sweat/alcohol smell so thick and humid he was practically drinking it with each breath. Bodies pressed closer, packing in to grind to a song that had more bass to rattle your eyeballs than usual.

Okay, so ‘beautiful’ and ‘natural’ could certainly be used to describe romantic and sexual love, attraction, and relationships-- don’t get him wrong-- but Yong Soo decided to tack ‘gross,’ ‘sloppy,’ ‘baffling,’ and ‘strange’ onto that as well. In the most friendly and supportive way possible, of course.

“Hey,” came a voice that he did not recognize. Yong Soo twirled on his heel to face the stranger.

“Well, hi!” he told the lightly intoxicated girl swaying in front of him.

“We don’t see many guys like you ‘round here.” It seemed that the girl was trying to compliment him with her noticeably slurred words, so Yong Soo gave her a sporting thumbs up. Now was she referring to the nerd thing about Yong Soo, the queer thing, or the Asian thing? Or was this one of those pickup lines intended to flatter by saying that a person stands out or is different from other people? Yong Soo held fast to his camera. Was this a FOOTAGE OPPORTUNITY? “You here with anybody?” she asked. She had a half-smile on her face that was very large yet did not seem capable of turning into a full grin.

“My friends. They’re here somewhere,” he answered her honestly.

“Wanna get outta here, then? My place?” There it was.

“No, thank you.” She blinked at him blearily, not expecting that. Male stereotypes of always wanting to get laid, and all that. He didn’t hold it against her. “But! You could help me in other ways!” That got her attention. But it seemed that the two of them were on different pages. He held up his camera, trying to clarify wholesome cinematic intentions. “Like, actually, it would be better if you had friends who could help me out too…?” It was not until she gave him a sultry grin and slid her arm seductively over his arm and around his shoulders that it occurred to him that he did not at all clarify his intentions. Oops. “Wait, wait!” He took a casual step back. She was drunk; he was being vague and stupid. “Look, I didn’t mean… whatever you thought I meant. I’m a _film major_. I’ve got a documentary assignment; I’m not looking to have, uh, relations.”

She was effectively stumped again. “What _do_ you want, then?”

 

Yong Soo wasn’t really able to explain himself when Natalya and Yeketrina _did_ find him eventually. You see, when they walked up behind Yong Soo, he was bouncing in time with the music with his camera in hand calling staging and posing directions to a small group of giggling girls. He was going to make such a good director someday. Or cameraman. Both! He was going to do everything and his films were going to be the best and he was going to become famous for his hard work and intriguing, chic, artistically modern works.

“Hey, Mary, could you lift your arms a bit higher and to the left? I’m trying to get a nice orbing effect with the light behind you-- That’s perfect! Yaaass, queen!” he called over the music, finally having a marvelous time at this silly party.

“Did the words ‘yas, queen’ literally fucking come out of your mouth?” was how Natalya made her presence known.

“NAT!” Yong Soo made a 180 in the air on his next bounce. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, MISSY?” Natalya took a moment to guzzle some alcohol before dealing with Yong Soo.

“I’ve been here,” she grumbled. “Where have _you_ been?”

“Ya know. Around.”

“But!” Yeketrina interjected, fully sober yet irrationally happy and dewy-eyed. She scooped Natalya and Yong Soo in for a hug with each arm. “We’re all here together now! And that’s what matters! Let’s enjoy the rest of the party and not wander off! I don’t want to worry about either of you sillies!” She ruffled their hair in that motherly way. Natalya looked at Yong Soo and her eyes screamed for help.

“You’re totally right, Yek-y!” Yong Soo exclaimed. “But I’m just gonna be getting some footage of my new friends here--” he waved at the girls and the girls waved back, tittering. “--and it’d be super cool if you two could get in on it!”

Yong Soo was a professional, you see. Both Braginsky sisters were rather camera shy. When Yeketrina oh-so-politely declined, it gave Natalya an escape strategy. An escape strategy that benefited Yong Soo. He was SO good at this!

Natalya did not share the sentiment and glared at him darkly enough to make the girls back up a bit. And then she accepted the offer. SO GOOD AT THIS. But what about Yek-y? Natalya was free, but also that would leave the beautiful, pure Yeketrina to-- heaven forbid-- the shark tank of _college students_.

Natalya needed a breather. Yeketrina didn’t deserve to be left to wander on her lonesome. Never fear! Yong Soo was a professional bestie. Where had Alfred gone? Yeketrina adored the rambunctious--that’s such a fun word-- American and Al adored the sweetheart that was Yeketrina.

Yong Soo had caught sight of him and Kiku a little while ago two-stepping like mushy in-love _dweebs_ to a song that was not in any way composed to be two-stepped to. He scanned the thick, sweaty crowd. Ugh. They’d lowered the lights some more for what must have been a particularly raunchy song going by how literally everyone on the dance floor was grinding with drunken enthusiasm. C’mon, guys. Yong Soo just wanted to find his friend.

“Let’s go find Alfred and my big bro so that Yek-y doesn’t feel left out when we do camera stuff.”

“ _Alfred_ is here?” Yeketrina and Natalya said at the same time in wildly different tones. And, in a manner akin to destiny, Yong Soo spotted a familiar blond head through the crowd. With a grand director’s wave, he led his quaint army in a bold charge into the midst of the partygoers; low lights masked faces, but did not hide the glint of Alfred’s honey blond mane.

Honestly, Kiku was so lame and Alfred had such a child’s heart that Yong Soo was kind of expecting them to still be two-stepping around the dance floor. But, surprise, the world didn’t like to conform to Yong Soo’s vanilla interpretation of it. Thus, Yong Soo was graced with the sight of his big brother--somewhere between tipsy and wasted-- grinding on one of his best friends--a little on guard, but entranced.

“Hey, guys!” Yong Soo stepped right up to them. Alfred just about leaped out of his skin in his haste to put distance between himself and Kiku. Kiku sighed deeply, opening his closed eyes.

“Yong Soo,” his brother said gently. “I will end you.” Yong Soo shot his sibling some finger guns.

“Yeketrina wanted to see Alfred!”

“Yeketrina?!” Alfred was instantly consoled. Kiku looked like he wanted to protest as his fella promptly ditched him to fold the Ukrainian into a happy hug. Kiku settled for a withering glare towards Yong Soo, but Yong Soo was already skipping with his new friends, Natalya, and his camera back to their corner with the better lighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Yong Soo is figuring out some documentary material! Hope you guys enjoy the update! Always happy to hear your thoughts!


	8. ✾꒡ .̮ ꒡✾

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmk if any of y'all want the disgustingly cheery playlist I use to write this

At about three in the morning, the sorority house belched out all the college students onto the solo-cup and glitter-strewn yard. Yong Soo, personally, wasn’t sure where the glitter had come from, but it seemed right. He filmed some of the litter on the ground, barely illuminated enough by the porch light. Maybe he’d desaturate this footage or give it that 80’s Polaroid filter and make the dry, used up, and despondent feeling more tangible for viewers.

Nataya grumbled something at him for the filming.

He was practically carrying her drunk butt as he waved goodbye to Yeketrina. He’d put money on him, Yeketrina, and Alfred being literally the only sober ones in the small, stumbling, wandering crowd hoping to make their ways home.

Now, everything on campus was within walking distance. At that moment, however, Yong Soo was really, really regretting his decision not to drive Nat’s car here. He was totally your ideal Asian hunk, but, he had to admit as he was all but dragging Natalya Braginsky across a creepy dark college campus, he was not exactly _ripped_. Who knew bulging biceps, rock hard abs, and gluts for days could be so useful--nay, necessary-- in friendship?

Yong Soo was wheezing. Natalya was making fun of him for it, half in her mother tongue, and making no effort to be of any help as she let him carry her. So Yong Soo complained back at her in Korean. She made faces at him. And then they were in something of an argument, both making up what the other was saying because Yong Soo didn’t speak Belarusian and Natalya sure as hell didn’t speak Korean.

Then Natalya puked on the sidewalk and Yong Soo tied her hair back for her. “See? This is why we don’t do alcohol, Ms. Natalya.” Nat replied in a litany of curses, which seemed to be the only thing that her mind could do in English at that point. Understandable. Speaking a not-first language took mental acrobatics; Nat couldn’t even walk right.

“Tired,” she told him as their apartment building came into sight.

“Nearly home, Natty. Nearly home.”

“Nap.”

“Not yet, Nat.”

“G’ fuck yourself.”

“No, thank you, Nat.”

“‘W’s that acephobic?”

“No, just assholish.”

“Fuck you.” Yong Soo loved his friends. Yong Soo fumbled with his key that got him into the apartment building with one hand and kept Natalya upright with the other. She promptly staggered and fell. Whoops. He picked her up. He got the outside door open. Now they got to do _stairs_.

Goal: Get up the stairs without letting his friend fall back down them. How hard could it be? They were only on the third floor! They had that prime real estate.

Outcome: The goal was harder to accomplish than originally planned. Previous statements retracted.

But then it was okay because he was digging out his keys again for the one that would open their door. And he burst through the door, home free, hell yeah, he was the best, nothing went wrong--

So there was a large man passed out on their couch.

But it was Carlos from across the hall, so it was chill, Yong Soo guessed. Having random people passed out at your place was just part of the standard college experience. Carlos was terribly busy snoring louder than even Natalya could, Yong Soo was terribly busy shoving Natalya towards her bedroom, and Gupta was presumably fine, so he let the Cuban be.

Nat was able to stumble herself into her room and flop down onto her bed. Yay. Yong Soo would call that a success.

Gupta stepped in front of him. Out of nowhere. Yong Soo may or may not have shrieked. The fact that Carlos woke up to hear it was totally coincidental. Gupta squinted at him, surprised by the reaction as if he _hadn’t_ just materialized with his ancient Egyptian pharaoh's powers. “Are you sober?”

“Yeah, but GEEZE, Guppy, you scared the heck outta me!”

Carlos laughed from the living room. Yong Soo scooted out of the hallway to wave at him. “Wow, Gupta screamed just like that when he saw me,” Carlos noted. Gupta’s face didn’t change, so the sour look was implied, but certainly understood.

“I had assumed that it was you who knocked on our door about an hour ago. I thought you had lost your keys,” Gupta explained, very calm and reasonable. “But,” he added. “I did not ‘scream.’” He gathered himself up with dignity. “I might have… let out a _startled cry_ in my surprise.”

“He screamed like a little girl,” Carlos confirmed. Carlos shrugged. “Most people don’t expect a pissed off, tastefully husky Cuban at 2 AM.”

“Sure, sure. But why _are_ you here?” Yong Soo took the opportunity to question. Gupta sighed quietly, Carlos groaned loudly. Yong Soo was missing something here.

“Yeketrina is staying with the sorority girls tonight,” Carlos paused to run a hand down his face. Yong Soo got the feeling that these emotions were not caused by _Yeketrina_ , though. “SO. Of course. Our _other_ roommate decides to,” Carlos made a vague gesture. “Entirely break any form of roommate code I’d thought we had going!”

“‘Roommate code’?” Yong Soo knew of such Unspoken Rules, but in their household it consisted of A. Wear pants. B. Do your chores on your day. C. Do not allow Natalya’s boyfriend to taint the sanctity of this apartment by inviting him to step foot in it while Yong Soo was home.

Hey, every roommate situation was unique.

“He’s having sex, Yong Soo,” Carlos spelled it out like he was five. “Because he is an asshole that doesn’t care that I sleep there.” Carlos stretched out on their couch comfortably. “So here I am. Gupta let me in.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place to escape that jazz, my friend.”

“You’re telling me,” Carlos rolled his eyes. Yong Soo secretively leaned over to Gupta.

“It’s ‘cause we’re ace,” he stage-whispered helpfully to the Egyptian.

“Yes, thank you for that, Yong Soo.” Gupta’s sarcasm was so easily mistaken for politeness. Yong Soo did not mistake it for politeness.

“Lemme sleep,” Carlos stated gruffly. Gupta raised a finger.

“I, too, would like to rest.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Yong Soo was up early. Ready to start the day despite turning in at an unreasonable hour! He had so much work to do! So much editing! Filming! Planning! So much, so much, so much, and we wanted to do all of it at once but that’s not a thing humans can do.

He decided to start with breakfast, whistling as he put on a pot of coffee.

As the living room and the kitchen were adjoined, Carlos threw a pillow at him in protest. Yong Soo through it back. “Coffee?” Yong Soo called over to him.

“Hrrrrnnng, _Dios mío_ , go the fuck back t’ sleep,” Carlos groaned, face still smushed against the pillow Gupta had loaned him. As a college student, Yong Soo was a pro at interpreting this sleepy talk.

“Cream or sugar?”

Some more Spanish grumbling. Carlos figured out that Yong Soo would not be going back to sleep. Some cussing in English mixed in there now too. Carlos decided that he would not make a pointless attempt to try to go back to sleep. He ran a large hand down his face, squinting over at Yong Soo with matted hair and grumpy eyes. “Two sugars, please.”

“Two _what_ of sugar? We talkin’ inches, milliliters, pascals--” more glaring from Carlos. “We’ve got _spoons_ ,” Yong Soo helpfully prompted.

“Two _spoons_ of sugar.”

“Really makes the medicine go down, eh?” Yong Soo grinned over at Carlos, who’d covered his face with the pillow. Whether he was trying to block out light or suffocate himself was unclear. Yong Soo brought him his coffee.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill Sadiq,” Carlos growled, indeed looking very threatening as he cradled the pink, rainbow unicorn coffee mug Yong Soo had bought on impulse a while back.

“Natalya usually puts aside her murderous morning rage after a couple cups of coffee. Lemme know how many will do it for you, ‘kay?” Yong Soo said over his shoulder with a smile. Carlos ruefully took a sip from the mug.

“Yong Soo, if you don’t shut up and go back to bed right now I swear I’ll--” Speaking of the angel!

“Strangle me? Decapitate me? You feeling up for coffee this morning, Miss Natalya?” Yong Soo called back to her closed bedroom door. A pained, hungover groan could be heard. Carlos winced and nodded empathetically as if she could see him. “ _Water_ ,” she eventually begged. Yong Soo delivered to the bundle of blankets that was Natalya Braginsky in the dark lair that was Natalya’s room. She thanked him with another groan. Be a good friend-- check. Now to focus on his _masterpiece_.

Yong Soo grabbed up his phone from his room, laden with great creative purpose as he did. The idea had been marinating around in his mind for long enough: interviews. Or, at the very least, he needed to get in touch with some aro/ace-spec individuals. And, besides himself and Gupta, he could name you one.

He shot his sister a text. ‘ _Good morning Mei!! :D’_

He did not have to wait long for the reply. _‘Good morning, Yong Soo!’_ Kindness was what that text radiated at Yong Soo. Kindness and really, really wanting to believe that he had no ulterior motives because Mei was sweet enough to like to think that of people. But Mei also knew her brother. He saw the underlying suspicion in that greeting and exclamatory punctuation. Loud and clear.

‘ _Whatcha up 2?’_ Sure, he could play the loving, involved little brother.

 _‘Date today!!!!!’_ Followed by many, many heart and assorted flower emojis.

 _‘gay’_ was the text he sent her next. ‘ _Lol so whatre u 2 doin? :D’_ He added a rainbow emoji just for good measure. What could he say? He was a text savvy guy.

 _‘Lien & I are heading 2 lunch at that suuuuper cute cafe downtown!!!!! Gtg, nearly there! Have a gr8 day yong soo!!’ _ More flowers. Always with the flowers. Girls.

But Mei’s texting habits were beside the point. The important thing was that Yong Soo had Chung Lien right where he wanted her. Or, ya know, at a place where he could plausibly find her as he didn’t have her number in his phone.

Chung Lien: Mei’s girlfriend. Much like Natalya, didn’t like like being filmed, would probably try to escape the filming process. Living, breathing, out-of-the-closet demisexual with unspecified romantic tendencies. ‘Demisexual’ meaning that she only developed sexual attractions after a deeper emotional bond had been formed with a partner. ‘Out-of-the-closet’ meaning that Lien had come out to Mei, who had then informed your nearest asexual-spectrum hunk in her excitement. ‘Unspecified’ meaning that Yong Soo neither knew Lien’s romantic orientation, nor was it really his business to know Lien’s romantic orientation. ‘Living, breathing’ meaning that Yong Soo was on his way to wreck a date in the name of educational (but fun!) documentaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of 1. my friend who's a freshman in college who sent me the following text yesterday: "I woke up this morning, opened the door into the living room. And there's just some stranger sleeping on our couch"  
> 2\. My demi friend: existing, living, breathing


	9. ू(･ิ ॄ･ิू๑)

Yong Soo stole Natalya’s car, which was probably technically illegal for some reason, but-- hey-- she wasn’t using it today anyway!

It was a short drive. Just enough to plug in his music and blast the _Macarena_ , because, you know, it’s a good song and also Yong Soo was a fun amalgamation of cultures too. He pulled into a parking space in front of Mei’s ‘super cute cafe downtown.’ She and Lien were too easy to scout out.

First of all, Mei was a sunny kinda gal who liked cute cafes, cute girls, and eating outside of cute cafes with her favorite cute girl. Second of all, the girls practically color-coded themselves for him: Mei loved pink; Lien liked green. He could spot them out of a crowd from that alone. And here in the sleepy mornings of a college town, there wasn’t even a _crowd_ to have to pick from.

Mei and Lien looked up at the sound of the car like ‘ _Who’s this whackadoo cranking up the volume to_ The Macarena _before noon?’_ Then, once they saw it was him, they did that thing where they shared a deep, synchronized sigh.

Yong Soo tumbled out of the car with his camera in hand and rolling.

Mei took matters into her own hands by standing up with hands on her hips. “Im Yong Soo! What are you thinking?” she demanded, trying to be stern.

“Oh, don’t worry, sis! I’m not here to see you!” He waved at Lien, who pretended not to see as she looked at her menu. Even though she already her food in front of her. “Also, you do know that it’s not at all lunch time, right?”

“It’s _brunch_!” She stomped her foot, going for frustrated with him now. Yong Soo showed her the text, which clearly said ‘ _lunch_.’

“Like, honestly, it’s not even brunch-time yet. It’s just breakfast, Mei. A post-breakfast snack, at best.”

“Yong Soo,” Lien spoke up now. “Why are you here?” He beamed at her.

“Why, I’m so glad you asked!” he gushed, skipping over to take Mei’s seat in front of her. “So, I’m doing a film project, you see--”

“No!” Mei interrupted him, trying to hockey check him out of her seat. “No, no! My date! My girlfriend! _Shoo_!”

“Pull up a chair, fam.”

“ _Yong Soo_!”

“Yeah?”

“You are…” she clenched her fists. “Ugh!” was the exclamation she chose to express her feelings.

“Love you too, sis. _Now_! Miss Lien!” he turned back to his lovely subject. Lien didn’t appear psyched out of her mind, but unlike Yong Soo’s sister, she rolled with it like a champ.

“Mei,” Lien’s voice was gentle, had a bit of an accent, and had that unmovable matriarchal quality that was forged of pure authority. You didn’t question Lien, you didn’t talk back, you took her word, and by golly if she told you to do something you _listened_. She was just that awesome. And without many words! It was all don’t-fuck-with-me vibe. Lien took her girlfriend’s hand. “I can help your silly brother with his class project. It is okay. He will leave soon.” Yong Soo gave a thumbs-up in agreement to these terms.

“Thaaaanks, Lieeeen!” Yong Soo grinned over at her, scooting his chair closer and cracking his knuckles for the auditory effect. “So. Hi,” he started, not sure how else to go about this. “I am not a straight man.”

If there was ever a time for that awkward crickets effect, it would be about now. The girls knew this fact. Everyone knew this fact.

“And you,” Yong Soo gestured, trying to get _one_ of them to complete his sentence for him. They didn’t. So this was going to be harder than expected. “ _You_ are not straight either.”

Lien looked over at Mei, whose hand she still held on the tabletop. “I am in a relationship with a woman.” Lien had a way of conveying a _lot_ in this simple statement. It was fascinating how, in these eight words, not said with much emphasis at any particular point told him: ‘ _Yes. You are correct; I am not straight_ ’ and ‘ _Duh_ ’ and _‘How long will this take?_ ’ and ‘ _I have been in a committed relationship with your sister for some time. Have you forgotten this?_ ’ and _‘You are a dumbass_.’ Truly amazing.

Different approach it was, then! “Would you agree that asexuality is a thing that exists and that it exists on a spectrum in many different forms?” Hey, that sounded pretty good! Lien did not give him a weird look for the change and also did not seem surprised that Yong Soo, aro-ace extraordinaire, brought this up for a class project. The corner of Lien’s mouth quirked up in what Yong Soo may dare call a hint of a smile. Or smirk. Probably more smirk-ish than smiley.

“That is an interesting question. Why ever do you ask?”

Lien had a weird sense of humor. No wonder Mei was head over heels in love. Together in mutual, sapphic weirdness.

“Stop teasing him,” Mei laughed, burying her face fondly in Lien’s shoulder. Sisters were good for something after all!

“Chung Lien,” Yong Soo tried again. “Would you say that you identify along the asexual or aromantic spectrum?”

“Yes, it can be said that demisexuality falls along the spectrum of asexuality. I agree with this as a description of my own sexual orientation.” That was beautiful. Oh, how Yong Soo loved human beings and their ability to make the fates align in such a way that Yong Soo was totally going to get a wonderful grade.

“Lien, you rock.”

“I appreciate that,” she told him thoughtfully.

“And you are comfortable saying that, for the record, you _do_ identify as demisexual?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to present any information regarding your romantic orientation?” he asked. “Ya know. For the record.” She waved it away.

“For me, it is too blurry a subject to possibly determine.”

“Cool. Whatcha mean by that, Lien?”

She shrugged.

And ya know, that was totally cool because feelings are messy and sometimes you just don’t have any idea in the world what’s going on in that heart of yours. And people didn’t have to know. Some people didn’t care. Some people couldn’t figure it out. Some people didn’t like labels.

“If I gave you an interview-- a real one, not in the middle of a date-- would you be down to talk to me about you and other aro-ace spec people some more? It’s fine if you’d rather not--”

“That would be fine.” Professional Lien interpretation: _Sure. Please leave now._

So he left, like a good filmmaker and respectful brother. And he was filled with glorious purpose. It would be serious. But it would be made by him, so it would be chic, modern with cinematographic shots to tickle the mind with entertainment and bewilderment. Nat preferred to describe his personal filmmaking and editing style as ‘weird-ass shit,’ which Yong Soo thought was fair enough. But it would be _his_ weird-ass _art_ with a message. An educational, aro/ace spec message, complete with demisexual representation, as any work of art should be.

But fun fact: you don’t see ace folks in stuff like you might see other instances of queer folks represented ‘cause you can’t sexualize, romanticize, or fetishize folks that don’t experience any or much sexual attraction, can you?

Come on, though. Gay characters got shitty little arcs about the homophobic bullshit they have to put up with and the disrespect towards their identity they experience. You’d think you’d at least get a couple shitty little instances of a romantically-inclined ace character dealing with the acephobic bullshit Yong Soo had struggled with his entire life. _But_ , they won’t do that either, because of the same reason you don’t really get canonical bisexuals, as Alfred liked to point out; it may, heaven forbid, entail having to say _the word_.

Maybe to balance it out Yong Soo could make sure _the words_ were used at every possible point of his documentary. He, single-handedly, would make up for centuries of suppression within a single documentary.

Ha. As if.

But he certainly _was_ going to put in _all_ those scary, confusing words. The world is queerer than the media likes to let on, kids, and the world is a beautiful thing. Yong Soo would prove it. Forget shitty character arcs; he would show them people. Living people. People, living.

But he also had to find more ace folks. Heck.

Yong Soo halted right in the process of leaving and whipped around. “LIEN!” he shrieked. The girls were both startled by this, thinking their ordeal over. “ _LIEN_!” he waved his arms for more attention.

“Yes?” she asked at a normal volume, as he really didn’t make it far.

“ _DO YOU KNOW ANY OTHER ACE-SPEC FOLKS_?!” he inquired in a totally calm, cool, professional manner. Lien and Mei looked at each other-- a mini conference within a glance-- and then both heads were shaking ‘no.’ Heck. “THANKS ANYWAY!” He’d have to ask Gupta. And literally everyone else he knew. Maybe he could put up fliers.

Yong Soo peeled out of the cafe parking lot. He had to get home. Immediately. Because that’s what Yong Soo’s creative processes told him he needed to do. The tires squealed as he came to a stop and piled out of the car, sprinted up the stairs, and burst into his apartment. Carlos was asleep .5 seconds before Yong Soo hurled himself through his own front door like a madman. He wasn’t when Yong Soo had entered the dwelling. Carlos yelled something in Spanish, looking vaguely panicked. Yong Soo caught the word for ‘unicorn.’ Probably from his dream. Carlos blinked and grimaced at Yong Soo after he got his surroundings sorted out. “What the fu-”

“CARLOS, LISTEN!” Yong Soo interrupted him. To his credit, Carlos quieted to listen. Yong Soo took a second to breathe. Breath: caught. “Hey, would you happen to be familiar with anyone who identifies on the asexual or aromantic spectrum?”

“... That’s all you had to say?”

“Yeah. So, like, if you haven’t heard the words specifically ‘asexual’ or ‘aromantic’ used by anyone you know, you might have heard something like ‘lithrosexual’ or ‘demi’ or…” Yong Soo gestured to indicate more words Carlos might have heard. Carlos puffed out his cheeks and took a second to think. “Your bedhead is glorious,” Yong Soo informed him as the guy did his best not to go back to sleep. Carlos ignored the last comment, but humored him.

“I think-- I _think_ \--” he emphasized carefully “that I might know a guy.” Yong Soo clapped his hands happily. “Do you know Ned? Don’t know his last name. He’s just _Ned_. From the Netherlands.”

“I know that he exists and I know where he smokes in the mornings!”

“Think we talked about somethin’ like that before. Reminded me of you.”

Yong Soo pressed a hand to his heart, utterly touched. “I’m _honored_.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m going to go home and drag the asshats out by the ear,” was Carlos’ valediction.

“Even the one that lives there?”

“ _Especially_ the one that lives there,” confirmed Carlos with a vengeance glowing in his eyes and on his smirk. Yong Soo nodded understandingly.

“Can I film it?”

The allosexuals who had made for a temporarily displaced Carlos had already left. How disappointing. Yong Soo didn’t like conflict, but _IMAGINE_ the opportunity to practice some action shots. Just think of how raw the bamboozlement would have been!

But then there was Operation Ned to consider. Operation Ned was more of an undertaking than Yong Soo had been expecting. The Dutchman (if he took a plane, would that make him the Flying Dutchman?) must have already been through with his morning cigarette. There was no blond guy with great hair to give him a nod and nobody else hanging around the apartment building to give him insider info.

That was why… “You want me to… what?” Gupta asked, blinking slowly at him.

“We gotta find him, man! You’re going to help me, right?”

“You could,” Gupta suggested gently as ever. “Talk to Carlos, who is more familiar with the individual than I.”

“But it’s like an adventure!”

“... Does it… have to be?”

“Why, of course it does! We’re both aro-ace; we’ve gotta be the ones that set adventure standards. It’s just how the world works.”

“This is not how I interpret my own orientation.”

“I respect that. But c’moooon, Gupta; let’s go figure out who this guy is! We’re gonna be sleuths! The best aro-ace, Korean/Egyptian sleuth duo this side of the creek!”

“To which ‘creek’ are you referring?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’ve got a prime suspect for another interviewee and I know literally nothing about him besides he likes to smoke, give out nods of acknowledgment, knows Carlos, and may be somewhere on the aro or ace spectrum! So, we’ve got to find him and learn his innermost secrets.”

“Um--”

“Or just the outermost secrets, whichever he’s most comfortable with sharing.”

“Better,” Gupta sighed. “But how are you planning to find him…?”

So then they were knocking on Carlos, Sadiq, and Yeketrina’s door. “SO YOU’VE DECIDED TO SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AGAIN, MOTHERF--oh it’s just you,” Carlos answered the door. “What do you want?”

“Where do we go looking for Ned?”

“Fuck if I know.” Carlos shrugged apologetically. “We just smoke together sometimes.” You know that one look people make when they realize they said something they know they shouldn’t have? The one where they snap their gaze off into the distance with puffed cheeks and a silent, but understood, ‘ _shit_ ’? Carlos made that look. “Don’t tell Yeketrina,” Carlos pleaded. “She is like a big sister to me.” Yong Soo nodded. Nobody wanted to disappoint Yeketrina. Nobody. She was too pure.

Gupta took a step forward. “If you were to smoke with Ned today, when and where might he be found?” OOOH, Gupta was good. Give that man a raise. Carlos scratched the back of his head, thinking about his answer before giving it.

“Well… Try… you have a pen?” Yong Soo wasn’t sure why he patted his pockets, as if someone had reverse-pickpocketed a writing utensil into his jeans. Then, Yong Soo got the privilege of being an awed witness to Gupta Muhammad Hassan, no joke, reaching up into his keffiyeh and _pulling out a pen_. Gupta shirked from the looks he received from both Carlos and Yong Soo. “Ya know, it’s probably really culturally insensitive to make a joke about hiding something in your--” Carlos made a keffiyeh-reminiscent gesture. “Hhhh-at? Hat? Hat is not the word. I am sorry.” Carlos deflated mid-joke attempt, but with dignity, in the way that a balloon might if it made that fart noise only a little bit.

“Forgive me,” this here was Gupta’s version of sarcasm, Yong Soo could taste it. “But it may shock you to know I _do_ hide--” he lifted the fabric “--ears beneath my keffiyeh. Ears that are very useful for holding pens.” Yong Soo was so platonically in love. Carlos laughed a big hearty big man’s laugh, then snatched Yong Soo’s arm to scribble an address.

“Here’s the address, smartasses. He’s usually there around now. Here’s a tip, though: for the love of God, don’t go in there with a camera crew.”

“Me? I’d never.” (Yong Soo was going to bring the camera crew.) “C’mon, Gupta!”

It was in walking distance, mind you. And it was a lovely day to spend with friends! Forget sex; have you ever experienced the satisfaction of hanging with a good friend?

Yong Soo skipped along the sidewalk. That was one of the differences between high school and college, ya know. In high school, some kids give a shit. In college, you have too much debt and homework to care about things like skipping down the sidewalk. If you wanna skip down that sidewalk, you skip the _heck_ down that sidewalk.

Yong Soo asked Gupta to hold his hand and join him in his skipping. Gupta respectfully declined.

Buildings were a bit sketchier here off-campus, but that’s just life, so Yong Soo ignored it. Until he and Gupta arrived at the address.

Now, Yong Soo was figuring that Carlos was giving him the address to, like, a place of business. This might still be the case with the abandoned house they were now standing in front of, of course, but Yong Soo wasn’t wholly sure it could contain the most _reputable_ of practices. Alright. Time for a more _incognito_ filming job. Yong Soo’s film was going to be the best documentary ever!

“Yong Soo,” Gupta spoke, also having some reservations. But screw it. Yong Soo had work to do. “Maybe we should not--”

“Nah, it’s fine, man! Would Carlos have given us the address if it was _dangerous_? I think not! C’mon!” Gupta lifted a finger to point out the flaws in his logic, or perhaps his regular use of the phrase 'c'mon,' but Yong Soo was already barreling forward. Gupta followed at what he hoped to be a safe distance.

Doorbell didn’t work. Yong Soo knocked. There were voices inside.

Also, for the record, Yong Soo was previously under the impression that Carlos was a man who enjoyed some nice cigars and some nice fraternizing as he smoked his nice cigars, like he sometimes did outside the apartment building. However, to assume cigars were the drug of choice here would be to utterly ignore the very strong smell of marijuana you were hit with when you got close. Could you get secondhand high off fumes? Maybe that’d be a good thing to google before Yong Soo went charging into a crack house… But then the door opened.

“What do you want?”

Yong Soo was excited enough not to think about his answer to this question when he replied with an enthusiastic gasp and a “You!” Ned narrowed his eyes at him. Understandably. “Hi, Ned!”

“... Hello…?”

“I don’t actually want ‘you,’ like, for your body or anything. Or… drugs. I don't want drugs.” This was not, perhaps, the best way to go about this. “Can I ask you some stuff?” he tried again.

“Ask me about… what?” Ned shifted.

“Carlos told me--”

“Carlos?” Ned nodded and opened the door to the two, still eyeing them. They stepped inside. Ah, yes. This was, indeed, a crackhouse. The druggies passed out on the floor really added to the ambiance. They got some friendly waves from the pals with the bong across the room, though, so Yong Soo supposed it was fine. Gupta drew closer to him. “I’ve seen you around before,” Ned commented conversationally even though he looked like he expected Yong Soo to try something.

“Yeah, you always nod!” Yong Soo agreed. “So, here’s the thing, man--” Ned spotted his camera. He informed Yong Soo of this by shoving him roughly against the wall. Gupta made a squeaky sound and reached his hand out like he was gonna stop the big guy with the Force.

“What is this?” Ned growled dangerously, Yong Soo’s shirt in his fist. “What do you think you’re doing coming in here with that?”

“Woah there, bud,” Yong Soo placated in a way that entirely gave away the fact he was scared shitless. “I-I don’t think we’re properly introduced yet!” Yong Soo gave him a smile. “I’m Yong Soo! I’m a film major!” The fist tightened. “A-And I’m doing a documentary a-about asexuality! I am, you see, an asexual person! And Carlos said you might be maybe possibly on the aro/ace spectrum…? We were tryna find you; he gave us this address…? If it makes you feel better he totally told me to come without the camera but I didn’t listen and I’m sorry?”

Ned, with eyebrows drawn distrustfully, decided that Yong Soo may just be stupid enough not to be lying about any of this.

“You want some coffee?” Yong Soo hiccuped upon being released. “‘Cause I’ll totally buy you coffee!” Seemed like a not-bad thing to say at the time.

“You really just want to ask me about my orientation?” Ned wanted to clarify, confounded. “You come _here_ … and you just want to talk about asexuality?” Ned coughed out a laugh. It was kind of terrifying, but Yong Soo laughed with him. Ned and his great hair chewed this over for a moment. Ned and his great hair shrugged one shoulder. “I cannot refuse anything free. Would tomorrow work?” Yong Soo nodded quickly. “... You sure I can’t… get you anything?” Yong Soo nodded again. Ned looked to Gupta to assure that the sentiment was universal. Gupta, too, declined on the weed and what-have-you. Ned nodded contemplatively, enigmatically. “Tomorrow.” It was decided!

Yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, folks! At least this update is rather long! Feel free to let me know if you liked the chapter!


	10. ＿φ(￣ー￣ )

“We could have died,” Gupta made attempts to press. “That man could have killed us, and you are going to buy him coffee?” Gupta did not understand the film major, but Gupta was also shaken. The business of drugs was not a matter either wished to touch, so it confused him that Yong Soo would _prolong_ such contact.

“Oh, Gupta,” Yong Soo replied. “The things you don’t get about _art_. Sometimes you just gotta sacrifice. Even if it means spending the last few bucks you have in cash to buy a drug dealer coffee!”

They both took a moment of silence to mourn the loss of the money.

“Gupta, we _all_ need a good friend to buy us coffee every once in a while,” Yong Soo began once more, with conviction. “Ned won't kill us! He’s cool! Doesn’t make the best life decisions, but, when you think about it, you can’t logically tell me we are either! We’re all here paying a college with no endowments or wish to help us that plans to suck every last coin from our pockets under the guise that it’ll _probably_ mean a better future for ourselves if we gloss over that little ‘ _money_ ’ detail there and it's student loan moguls and people like  _Ned_ making money from stupid, stressed young adults making stupid, stressed young adult decisions! Gupta, I don’t even have a _job_!” These facts, Gupta knew well.

“This is dangerous.”

“He’s somewhere on that aro/ace spectrum! I know it! I want to know all about it! I want to film it! I want a good grade! Good grades need more than one aro/ace spec person and if that person is a drug dealer, then so be it, ‘cause that’s just what you gotta do, Gupta! For art! And for grade point average!”

Gupta nodded, for lack of knowledge on how to handle the situation differently. He had reading and laundry to which to attend. He accompanied Yong Soo to their shared apartment and there diverged from his roommate’s path.

The laundry hamper was nearly the size of Gupta due to Yong Soo’s failure to do it the previous day, and the few communal washing machines and dryers were located in the basement, but choosing to take the laundry obligations of his flatmates provided welcome time for himself. Gupta was also in need of fresh underwear. Thus, he gently placed the textbook that cost more than his plane ticket to America atop the soiled clothing from three bodies and began the descent down four flights of stairs.

Yong Soo, Gupta had learned, often filmed the laundry room when the chore was his. He had explained his rationale to Gupta, and Gupta thought it fair enough. Yong Soo referred to the laundry room in such colorful terms as ‘dystopia’ and ‘hellscape.’ Of course, the laundry room, Yong Soo would argue, was not horror film material. Rather, the laundry room represented a space removed from true reality, but never with positive connotations to this; it symbolized deprivation. One merely existed uncomfortably in negative space in the laundry room. Occasionally, one found there the tired, solemn, and unspoken camaraderie of fellow tenants who do their best to learn others’ schedules without communication and never quite succeed.

Gupta found it an appropriate place for required reading.

There were four rundown washing machines and five old dryers to be utilized by the entirety of the apartment building. Occasionally, there was a line. For the moment, however, there was silence under the fluorescent lighting.

There was enough dirty clothing for two loads. Gupta separated the colors as appropriate, added detergent, and took his seat at the worn, fold-out card table. Natalya had informed him that the table was not originally provided for the tenants, but that the tenants took it into their own hands to make the small improvement to the laundry room, as the concrete floor was not ideal for waiting.

Gupta opened his textbook to where his note sheets saved his place. He removed the pen from behind his ear, pen to paper to take notes where he’d left off in the chapter…

The first disturbance could be heard from the moment they exited their apartment, booming voices carrying. The voices only came closer, arguing loudly. Gupta buried his head further into his book as if they may not see him.

They did not.

Carlos and Sadiq were too busy shouting as they piled the two hampers full of laundry they carried into the remaining two washers. They seemed to be capable of settling their roommate disputes only over yelling when Yeketrina did not assist. Gupta did not understand this, as the two were quite close friends, yet they yelled with such anger and with such _little_ malicious intent behind it.

The two left, voices heard as they ascended the stairs to return in approximately one hour.

Gupta read of historical archaeological digs. He finished several pages, actually.

But then the second disturbance descended the stairs with raucous laughter. Gupta cringed internally; there were no more open washing machines. He fought to remain focused on the information before him, but deciphering the English required his full attention.

Gupta did recognize two of the three men that came down the stairs. Their names were Alfred and Kiku, they lived down the hall, and they were together. The sight of same-sex couples was admittedly still rather foreign to Gupta, the LGBT+ individuals of Egypt often being ‘out’ on social media, but never so daringly expressive in the stigma of real life. Kiku was Yong Soo’s elder brother, Alfred was Yong Soo’s friend, and thus the couple was more than once the reason Gupta’s household had milk and toilet paper.

Kiku held a textbook close to his chest. Alfred and the other man carried a foosball table between them down the stairs, a pile of clothes on top of it. The other man had albinism, making him the whitest man Gupta had seen in America yet. 

These individuals noticed Gupta’s presence. Kiku Honda took a seat on the folding chair across from him with a silent nod. Alfred Jones greeted him with a neighborly, “HEY, DUDE!” From there, they let him be. Or, Gupta thought they would as Kiku opened his textbook and Alfred and company loudly began to play foosball.

The racket and incomprehensible yelling was consistent enough for Gupta to be able to ignore partially, though he strained slightly with translation. Together, he and Kiku made notes as they awaited the completion of the laundry. Tired, solemn, and unspoken camaraderie.

A game of foosball ended with a cry of defeat and a shout of victory. Alfred went to Kiku. The other came to stick a hand at Gupta. Gupta shook his hand, looking up at him politely. “Gilbert Beilschmidt,” he introduced himself with a wide and crooked grin.

“Gupta Hassan.”

“The foosball table was _my_ idea,” Gilbert Beilschmidt told him. He seemed proud of this fact, so Gupta nodded. “Snatched it from my frat house.” Gupta nodded again, not entirely sure of his read on this individual.

“Gil, he’s ace,” Alfred butted in, taking a moment to address his companion from where he fussed over Kiku’s apparent headache across the table from Gupta. Alfred gave Gupta a thumbs-up. Gupta returned it; he imagined Yong Soo told him. Gilbert deflated with a huff.

“Damn.” And the matter was settled.

Gupta left them to their games as soon as the laundry was completed. He dragged the laundry basket back up the stairs. He was greeted by Yong Soo as he returned to their apartment.

“GUPTA, I WAS ON YOUTUBE, RIGHT? AND I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOU BECAUSE I SAW THIS THING.” Yong Soo waved his hands around-- reminiscent of swatting bees-- as if the bizarre gesture continued his thoughts for him. Gupta squinted, and Yong Soo realized that it did not. “Okay, so, you know the song _I’ve Had the Time of My Life_? It was in that video I showed you at midnight a bit ago?” Gupta remembered it. Yong Soo woke him up to show him this. Gupta nodded. “Great! So I think we totally need to choreograph and perform it together before we graduate--”

“Excuse me?” Gupta politely stopped him there.

“--No, think about it, Gupta! It would be all dramatic like in the movies! A beautiful, platonic performance by a couple queer guys! Wait! I’m sorry!” Gupta blinked at the abrupt change. “Are you okay with that word? Generally, and, ya know, being applied to you? Some people aren’t! And that’s totally cool!”

“No, that’s alright. Many people already think me strange,” Gupta tried to make a joke, though he did not think he was very good at them. Yong Soo grinned nevertheless.

“Cool! A couple queer dudes platonically being _great_! It could be the finale of my documentary! Also! How on Earth do you explain queerplatonic relationships to the general populace of uninformed folks?” Yong Soo moved on, though Gupta’s mouth was poised to suggest against the dance. Gupta exhaled. “‘Cause it’s a really neat thing! And, like! Nobody knows what the hell it is!”

Before finding online communities of asexual, aromantic individuals, Gupta would have claimed the same ignorance. “There are plenty of definitions available online,” he advised his roommate.

“Yeah! That’s how I know they’re a thing and that that’s what people call them! Did you know folks in queerplatonic relationships are called ‘zucchinis’? Like imagine that! Just chilling with your platonic life partner! Just you and your zucchini and all your other pals you make along the way against the world! Now _that’s_ a relationship I could get behind!” Gupta shrugged. “But how do I _convey_ that it’s kinda different from being ‘friend-married’ or something because not everyone gets married? But those tax benefits, though. But just. You’re best friends, yeah, but you kinda wanna specify that you’re a bit more than that to each other? But not romantically or sexually? Just committed, platonic goodness?”

“I would not worry too much on the subject; I think you just explained it rather well,” Gupta told him, smiling a bit at his roommate’s enthusiasm. Yong Soo brightened considerably.

“You think so? Thanks, Gupta!”

“But about the choreographed dance…”

“Oh, don’t worry! I won’t _actually_ put it as the finale for my documentary! You can’t rush _that_ level of greatness! So, how do you think I should go about presenting how ace folks aren’t necessarily sex-repulsed, but can be? Because it’s so cool how many different types of ace people there are! Ace people are so awesome! And I’m thinking the right way to capture this is with fireworks.”

“Please do not illegally shoot fireworks…”

“Sparklers?”

“I do not see why not. But this dance… Perhaps Natalya would be a better candidate--”

“Nonsense! We can do this! Also, she would stab me if I suggested it.”

Gupta sighed internally, but he had a significant amount of reading left to do. “Alfred, Kiku, and a Gilbert Beilschmidt are playing foosball in the laundry room.”

“NO WAY! _FOOSBALL_?! Nice try getting out of it, but this conversation isn’t over. LATER, GUPTA! HAVE FUN DOING YOUR READING! TAKE NOTES, STUDY HARD, PROUD OF YOU!” Yong Soo exited the apartment in haste.

Gupta continued his reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I tried really hard to get an update out. Hope you liked it, folks! Thanks for sticking with me through my slow updating! Your thoughts are always welcome.


	11. (*^◇^)_旦

So Yong Soo was going to have coffee with a drug dealer. He guessed you hadn’t _really_ reached that weird point of trying to obtain an arts degree until you had. But also his class, on _top_ of this huge documentary that was going to make or break everything he had been paying for, decided he needed some more to do. Now, he had to take a bunch of photographs and play them together to make some artsy almost-film… thing.

This was fine. He was doing _fine_. He just… He just needed some caramel drizzle on his coffee. Yeah. Nothing like some caramel drizzle to heal the wounds.

Gupta was studying in the library, as one does, and Yong Soo was proud of him. Natalya was with her boyfriend, for the first time in a bit, and Yong Soo did not like the guy because he loved his friend and also because the guy was stupid.

The coffee shop was, luckily, in the same place it always was. He sent Alfred a selfie to update him that he had arrived. They had been Snapchatting all morning-- ‘planning the Mission’ if you listened to Alfred--which included basically every filter on Alfred, Yong Soo, and a couple on an unsuspecting Kiku.

Yong Soo entered the fray.

It was heavily populated with college students toting earbuds and laptops and frozen drinks with double shots of espresso. He vaguely wondered how many thousands of dollars of debt could be accumulated between them all. His wonderings were short-lived, because he caught sight of a mane of gelled hair.

Ned was in a corner, on his phone.

Ned caught him staring, and rose. Kind of menacingly, except Yong Soo didn’t like to think bad about people. Yong Soo waved; Ned gave him a little two-fingered salute around the phone in his hand as he crossed the room. Ned was taller than him, and Yong Soo rocked up onto his toes a little when the fella came to a halt at his side. The two of them stared down the menu and honestly Yong Soo felt like he was going to cut some deal with the mafia instead of talk the aro/ace spectrum with a college drug dealer. “So!” Yong Soo began the conversation, wanting this to feel like a perfectly legal exchange. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Ned regarded him coolly for about half a millisecond before Yong Soo excused himself. “Or! They’ve got, like, smoothies or tea if you’re not a coffee sort of guy--”

“I know. I come here often. I live nearby,” Ned reminded him, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I like their hot chocolates; all of them are good,” he informed Yong Soo, thoughtful.

“Hot chocolate! Oh! I’ve never had their hot chocolate! That’s great!” Yong Soo cleared his throat. “What kind are you feeling today, buddy?” Buddy didn’t sound right. Yong Soo didn’t know where ‘buddy’ had come from. Ned didn’t acknowledge it when he replied with exactly the thing that made Yong Soo love him and his great hair,

“I think I will have the unicorn hot chocolate.”

He said it so cool, so suave, so in-the-know.

Ned looked at him. Yong Soo looked back. There was an understanding, a bro-ship in its budding stages. Yong Soo nodded. “Hell yeah.”

They got up to the front of the line, and Yong Soo ordered the _shit_ out of that frappe with caramel drizzle and unicorn hot chocolate. And it was way expensive, but Yong Soo got to utter the words ‘unicorn hot chocolate’ for his drug dealer friend, so it was kind of worth it.

“What’s your major, anyway?” Yong Soo asked as the two of them made their way back to Ned’s corner.

“Business,” Ned answered, “And you are a… film major, you said, yes?” Yong Soo gave him two thumbs-ups in affirmative. “Hmm,” Ned considered him for a moment. He leaned closer on his forearms, looking almost sympathetic. “Then why not film a subject more easily covered?” Yong Soo blinked, and sat back as his heart dropped. Aw. _Aww_. So it was going to be like that? Maybe he just wanted the drink and not to talk-- “Do not misunderstand me. I am a queer man. But I also know that being this way?” Ned shook his head, “It does not sell.” Ned shrugged. “Unless you are _going_ for the starving artist lifestyle.” He raised an eyebrow, a challenge.

Yong Soo thought about sticking his tongue out at him, thought about making some witty and clever retort without being mean, thought about shrugging, but as he swished Ned’s words around in his mouth, he knew Ned had a point. A _stupid_ point. But a point. Like he always said, there’s a bunch of stupid, selfish, lazy, dumb, annoying, enraging, heteronormative society reasons you don’t see representation. And _especially_ not asexual representation.

But you know what? Fuck those reasons.

Not to be mean to Ned or anything! But Yong Soo was totally resisting the urge to laugh! There was a certain feeling. A really particular one that was kinda hard to explain. It was that feeling that came from all that time struggling and dealing with being not-straight, all that time when words got caught in the throat thinking about admitting it to yourself--let _alone_ anyone else. The feeling that came from coming out--the coming outs that felt like freedom, the ones that felt like a cage at the bottom of the sea, the first one, the hundredth one, the good ones, the bad ones, the awkward ones. The feeling that came with confidence learned, confidence gained, confidence created. The feeling when all that history came back to you when you’re standing in front of a person that had no idea--or maybe some idea--and it blooms in your chest. Was it caused by anger? Spite? Hurt turned into healing? Pride? That soaring feeling that just makes you smile with a tongue in your cheek. That feeling of taking a dare. Oh, so you don’t think I can do it? You don’t think I can be me? You don’t think I can be happy? You don’t think I can make a difference? That feeling of looking someone right in the eyes and saying _Ha! Just you watch me!_

And Yong Soo was pretty sure Ned got it without Yong Soo needing to say anything.

A barista brought them their drinks. Yong Soo’s looked like heaven and Ned’s was a beautiful pastel pink monstrosity with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles and marshmallows. Ned and his great hair sipped lightly at it, manly as hell.

“So, since you will _not_ be keeping it simple and digestible for the masses,” Ned sighed, but Yong Soo thought he caught a lighter, more joking tone. “What do you want from _me_?”

Yong Soo took his sweet time slurping at that blessed, blessed frappe. He gestured widely, and gave Ned a shrug--open up that convo for the guy, keep things chill! “You said you’re queer. Can you elaborate on that?” Ned knew this was an informal, off-the-record sort of deal because Yong Soo asked this around a mouthful of the good stuff. See? Professionalism.

Ned pondered this carefully over his unicorn hot chocolate. “I do not talk about this often,” was his opener, which was followed by some more thought on his part. “I consider myself… I am hesitant to say ‘ _gay_ ,’ because I am not sure it is my word to use.” His eyebrows--he had great eyebrows _and_ great hair--scrunched together as he tried to explain himself. “Doubtlessly homosexual,” Ned shrugged, “but aromantic.” Yong Soo nodded, and waited for him to continue on his own rather than make this an interrogation sorta deal. Ned watched him, maybe he was looking for a reaction, before deciding almost grudgingly to go on. It wasn’t bad attitude or anything; Yong Soo could relate to not wanting to spill an entire life story and dictionary definition whenever just bringing up stuff.

But Yong Soo bought him five dollar hot chocolate in exchange for dropping some knowledge. So Ned was gonna drop some more knowledge in the name of quid pro quo—a concept that this business major had to be familiar with.

“I initially thought that I was simply not interested in a relationship…” Ned told him, having to look off into the distance to search for some more words. And, honestly? It kinda struck a little too close to home? Because Yong Soo knew exactly what he was doing--trying to figure out how to explain that he wasn’t some heartless, emotionless rock for not wanting a dose of that oh-so-exalted romance. Ugh. Ouch. This was supposed to be a _fun_ aro/ace documentary! How come they aro/aces had to have sad feelings?

“... But then you kinda figured out, while true enough, that wasn’t quite _it_?” Yong Soo tried to help. Ned nodded, still staring off thoughtfully. Maybe it was a little inappropriate to think that he should have some cellos in the background and a fan lightly rustling his great hair, but Ned totally should have that.

“I knew I was interested in men, of course--” Ned smiled lightly-- “and assumed how I felt was how men who were interested in men felt, and when I saw men who were in love with men? In the typical way people mean ‘ _love_?’ I supposed I was one of the aloof, selfish douchebags only interested in the physical who many men pretend to be.”

“... And now?” Yong Soo wanted to smack him with a cake full of beautiful platonic love, lovingly inscribed with how _IT IS NATURAL FOR PEOPLE TO EXPERIENCE SEXUAL ATTRACTION WITHOUT ROMANTIC ATTRACTION AND IT DOES NOT MEAN YOU ARE BROKEN._

“Most still see me as an aloof, selfish douchebag,” Ned held up his palms reasonably, “and I do not try to change that image. It is fair enough. I am far more interested in money than in them,” he chuckled. Like, actually chuckled. Have you heard a chuckle? Because that’s what Ned did. “But I am a person, and I know I am not romantically attracted to the men I find physically attractive. Which… Makes things… complicated, to say the least.”

“Complicated?”

“Some men want one night stands, no strings. And I would prefer much the same. But it is assumed pretentious when I claim the aromantic label for myself, as if I want only to differentiate myself from them, make myself some form of... _virtuous_. As if I am saying to them I am above _they_ who sleep around, and claiming a reason for why I sleep around. Making myself an unnecessary political bloc.”

“And so, if these guys would listen, what would _you_ say you’re saying when you say you don’t have romantic attraction?”

“Men are hot. Men are beautiful. There are certain ways it strikes me to act on this fact, but not others.”

“That’s succinct as hell and I love it. How _do_ you feel about relationships? Is there a type you _would_ be down for?” Yong Soo spooned out some caramel with his straw. Ned wrinkled his nose like he smelled something funny. Likely a common question he didn’t like to answer, then.

“I could have a relationship, and I could love,” Ned made a stern point of this, “I could do the housework. I could hold hands. I could enjoy this. I will still not develop romantic attraction in the way people mean when they say it. It presents different expectations between me and a partner who does experience this attraction. Different perspectives on how things should be. Even though I could think my partner beautiful, love my partner, what have you. I avoid the mess. No strings is easier than to bridge the ways we may experience the other differently.”

“So,” Yong Soo grinned sheepishly, knowing Ned would hate the question, “You’re saying aromantics can be down for having people as more than fuckbuddies?”

Ned grumpily sipped at his unicorn hot chocolate. He glowered. “Aromantics, conditionally, can be in romantic relationships, and enjoy them,” his tone took on that of one instructing a child, though he knew Yong Soo understood better than most. “Just as asexuals, conditionally, can be in sexual relationships, and enjoy them. Enjoyment is experienced in different manners. Relations are desired for different reasons. It depends on the individual lacking attraction.”

“Conditionally, eh? So some aromantics aren’t chill with relationships that aren’t sexual, or relationships at all?” Ned had gotten some whipped cream on his nose.

“Of course. Outside of theory, I believe that would describe myself.”

Yong Soo held up a hand for a high-five, which must have struck Ned as weird because he stared at it for a long while before giving it a half-hearted pat.

“I support you, Ned!” Yong Soo wanted him to know, “And I know some of the feeling!” Yong Soo added, as per typical ‘you’re not alone’ procedure. Ned stared at him some more and Yong Soo could feel him holding his tongue.

“Okay,” Ned nodded. “Are we done here?”

“We can be if you are!” Yong Soo reassured him. “But! I’ll need to call you back for an _actual_ interview, ya know, if you’re cool with that.”

Ned sighed... but then nodded.

Yong Soo, though experiencing a feeling akin to when you actually win something at those crappy rigged claw machines, knew that--as a professional--he should accept Ned’s decision with a calm grace. His mind, however, only partially caught up with this notion. That would explain why he pumped both fists into the air with jubilation, eyes wide with _victory_ and creative _passion_ , but made no noise to accompany this gesture. This probably did make him look like the sanest person in the world, but he _was_ a film major, so he figured he could get away with it.

He thanked Ned, lowered his hands, and booked it out of there with half a melting frappe in hand.

He ran to his apartment, figuring Gupta and the others in the library could not afford (in terms of dollars and time) to be disturbed from their studies, and also because his apartment was significantly closer than the library and Yong Soo could not sprint for long distances. He sent Alfred a heavily blurred Snap on his way, the hyped mood further expressed with whatever happy emojis his finger found.

He _thundered_ up the stairs, down the hallway, and ran into the door in his haste to open it. “NATALYA, HE IS SO AROMANTIC AND I LOVE IT--” he yelled, breathing heavily.

Two frowny faces turned to look at him. Oh. Yeah. Gross.

Douchebag’s lip curled in disgust upon seeing it was him. Yong Soo didn’t hold it against him; the feeling was mutual. “See?” Douchebag sneered while waving a hand at Yong Soo. This again.

“Don’t you have any other talking points besides whining about me?” Yong Soo inquired in a nice-enough, I’m-not-angry-I’m-just-disappointed voice.

“ _See_?” Douchebag was getting more frustrated with Yong Soo's friend. “Why? He annoys the shit out of you, annoys the shit out of me, doesn’t like me, doesn’t care about you, why stay? It doesn’t make sense! Just come live with me.”

Okay, ouch.

“Yong Soo, please leave,” Natalya was quiet, brimming with anger. Yong Soo didn’t worry about her standing her ground with Douchebag, but it was kinda… hard to leave after hearing _that_.

Douchebag saw her anger and decided he didn’t like it. “No. He doesn’t have to leave. I want him to hear what you have to say, Natalya! There’s no reason for you to stay here with _him_ and that Muslim kid! So, what, Natalya? What’s your reason? Is it _him_? Are you staying here for _him_? Can you not get over your feelings for _him_ enough to love _me_?”

Yong Soo didn’t like his tone with her, or his tone referring to Gupta. Ya know what, Yong Soo just really didn’t like him and his weird, misguided ideas that there was something ‘going on’ between any of them.

This is the part in the movies where it’s revealed that Natalya actually did have a crush on Yong Soo all along and there’s a lot of close-up camera shots because nothing _will ever be the same_! Honestly, while Yong Soo didn’t doubt that that must happen _somewhere_ , if people could just erase those kinds of weird, heteronormative ideas out of their minds in general that’d be great. Let girls be friends with boys; the sexual and romantic preferences of either shouldn’t even be a factor in whether or not this is ‘allowed.’ Come on, guys.

“Yong Soo has been my best friend since high school,” Natalya was so awesome she sounded bored and furious at the same time! “He is annoying.” True. She said it as the matter of fact it was. “But even when I am annoyed with him, he still cares for my well-being. I will stay here, with Gupta and with Yong Soo, my friends and nothing more, because I intend to share living space with those who will carry me home when I’m drunk--not someone who will try to come onto me when either of us are drunk, not an angry drunk.”

Yong Soo tried to give her a supportive thumbs-up, but she wasn’t looking at him. She stood tall against Douchebag. Douchebag burned red with embarrassment. Yong Soo nearly felt bad for the guy after that burn. Almost. The guy absolutely had it coming.

Douchebag stared speechless and gaping. Then, like any proper douchebag, just stormed out.

“I’m glad you appreciate me when you’re drunk, Nat,” Yong Soo opened his arms for a hug. She glared at him. But then she accepted the hug, patting him awkwardly on the back.

“You _are_ annoying,” Natalya wanted to make sure he knew.

“I am _so_ annoying, Natalya. And I like that you’re my friend anyway!” he grinned. She rolled her eyes, but Yong Soo saw the hint of a smile on her too.

“Your drug dealer is aromantic, you said?” she changed the topic. He let her.

“SO AROMANTIC, NAT! IT’S GREAT! And he’s going to let me interview him for my documentary!”

“Did you buy anything from him?”

“Of course not! We just had coffee, Nat, gosh!” Yong Soo scoffed. He narrowed his eyes at her playfully. “Are you disappointed I didn't bring drugs?”

“After that?” she jerked her head toward the door, “I can’t decide.”

“Nat, can I ask you--”

“No.”

“Okay, but--”

“Enough. Go plan for your film. I have a paper to write.” She walked off to her room. Ouch. Yong Soo plunked down on the floor and opened Alfred’s Snapchat, chin in hand. It was a great shot of his nose and eyes, but mostly his nose. Yong Soo straightened up as he read the caption, _‘Dude!! I think I have something 4 ur ♠ movie!!!’_  He thenquestioned why both he and Alfred automatically read it as ‘ace movie’ when it really said something more like ‘spade movie.’

Then, he leaped to his feet. “NATALYA, I KNOW YOU NEED SPACE AND I SUPPORT YOU!” he called in the vague direction of her room, “BUT WE SHOULD REALLY TALK! BUT IT CAN BE AFTER I GO TO ALFRED’S! HE SAYS HE HAS SOMETHING FOR MY DOCUMENTARY! LOVE YOU! MAKE GOOD DECISIONS! BE BACK SOON!”


	12. (*^o^)人(^o^*)

Yong Soo bolted down the hallway. Alfred must have heard his footsteps, because he opened the door while Yong Soo had a fist raised to knock. “YONG SOO, I’VE GOT A THING!” Al met him with enthusiasm.

“YEAH I GOT YOUR SNAP! WHATCHA GOT?!”

“STOP FUCKING YELLING!” one of their neighbors requested of them. Al opened his door for Yong Soo to come in.

“Dude, you remember Mattie, right?”

“Of course! I love Matthew!”

“I just got off Facetime with him, man! And, dude!” he gestured a lot to explain his excitement, but also to explain that he needed a moment to collect his thoughts. “You want a Coke?!”

“Sure.” Al went to the fridge while Yong Soo plopped down on the couch. Al handed him a glass bottle of soda.

“Matthew and I were just talking about stuff, ya know? And we got to talking ‘bout boys-- ‘cause that’s something we both like--seeing as he’s gay. _BUT_! He told me something that sounds perfect for your movie!”

“Cool!”

“So, he mentioned that him, being trans and all, isn’t comf with sex and isn’t wanting sex right about now, or until his transition is further along. Stuff about wanting to be more content in his own skin, plus stuff about how others would view him. It’s, like, example _and_ antiexample, don’t you think? Like--”

Yong Soo paused him a second. “Quick question: you _did_ ask _Mattie_ to… share this with me… didn’t you…?” Matthew was a pretty private guy, after all.

Alfred stopped like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh,” was the word that tumbled from his mouth. Yong Soo’s friend sat super, super still for a moment. Then, he slumped. “I’m a sucky brother.” Yong Soo patted his arm. “I just got really excited to tell you!”

“I’m digging the enthusiasm. But you should probably ask your brother if it’s chill.”

“Now?”

Yong Soo perked up. “Hell yeah!” He hadn’t talked to Mattie in forever! Quite the ice breaker there. ‘Hey your brother told me you don’t feel like sex; how’s life been treating you?’ Eh. He could make it work.

Al grinned and then they were squished on the couch while Alfred called Matthew up on Facetime. It rang.

And rang.

Matthew didn’t pick up. Dang it, Matt.

Al shrugged his shoulders, “He might have gone into work; I think he was talking about needing to go.” They sat in thought for a second. “I don’t think we should interrupt him at work,” Alfred decided sagely. Yong Soo nodded in agreement.

“We could go see him…?” he proposed, meaning after Matthew got off work, which seemed reasonable to him.

“Now?” Al asked, confused. And Yong Soo went to correct him, he really did, but then he got to thinking. He didn’t have anything to do (aside from homework and studying and working on projects) this fine Sunday! Matthew was cool! Alfred was cool! And gosh did he not want to do anything that he was supposed to! Plus, it wasn’t procrastinating if he found something he could do for his photography-film/glorified-slideshow thing that he had no earthly idea what to do for.

Yeah.

“Absolutely,” Yong Soo nodded in affirmative.

“I still don’t know if we should interrupt him at work…” Alfred thought to say, a good brother after all.

“Oh, yeah, I totally agree. We can just…” Yong Soo’s mind worked overtime trying to figure this out, “We can just go to his house and wait for him there!” Alfred thought this was a great idea.

“I know where he keeps his key!” he was very enthused to supply.

“Is it still breaking and entering if we enter via key?”

“I don’t think so, no, plus he’s my brother and we’ll tell him we’re there and it’ll be fine! He hasn’t pressed charges on me yet!” This _was_ a good thing. They fist-bumped, a celebration of a brainstorm session well done. They both did the fist-bump explode-y thing so they were basically on the same awesome page, except Alfred made the noise and Yong Soo didn’t. But it was fine. Only a little less cool.

They headed out; Yong Soo texted Natalya and invited her to share feelings over text because she was not good at sharing feelings, generally, and he wanted her to know she was loved and supported.

Alfred owned a used pick-up truck. Vehicles were really good for the spontaneous adventures to which college students experiencing the usual existential crisis and/or vicious pull of procrastination were prone. Vehicles were also sucky because you had to pay insurance premiums like a whole actual adult, even when you were not _really_ using the vehicle a lot anyway because everything on campus was more or less within walking distance.

Alfred had also had a “check engine” light on for a few months now. He’d put some duct tape over the light so he wouldn’t have to look at it. Everyone unanimously agreed that, hey, that’s _probably_ not the best thing to do, but at the same time nobody blamed him because holy _crap_ car stuff is expensive when you work ten cents above minimum wage part time as a college student, not in debt solely due to scholarships received in high school that you have to maintain good grades for to keep.

Adulting is scary as shit.

Yong Soo got in the questionable truck and chose to ignore the weird noise it made as Al peeled out of the parking lot. Alfred turned up the radio, totally used to it.

Matthew lived across town, a working man. He was the responsible one out of all of them, because of course he was. Matthew, undecided about what he wanted to do, was taking a couple years to work and save money--both for the possibility of college if he decided he wanted it and for his transition. Al had dived headfirst right into college after high school along with the rest of them. Now! Most of Yong Soo’s old friends from high school who had all latched onto the college’s promise of a ‘discount’ were looking a few thousand bucks of debt in the face! Yay!

For the moment, Yong Soo let himself enjoy a questionably legal outing with a great friend.

Alfred still didn’t want to admit that Yong Soo had totally beat him at a round of foosball the previous night. Yong Soo pointed out that denial was a typical stage of grief for people to go through as they mourn their beloved dignity. Alfred said he was nuts if he thought that Yong Soo’s picking up the foosball...ball…--foosball? Just foosball?--and slam dunking it into Alfred’s goal counted for even half a point. Yong Soo explained to him, again, how it was a trick shot and _should_ therefore be counted as _two_ points, but that even if they didn’t count his awesome dunking skills, he STILL would have won because Al scored a ‘point’ when Yong Soo was talking to Gil and there was NO WAY that that counted.

They laughed again about Gil, and how he’d stolen the foosball table from his frat bros. He was sure Gilbert would have to drag it back at some point.

Al told him about how Gil had tried to flirt at The Gupta Muhammad Hassan, and how Al had totally set Gil straight-- _well_ , obviously not _‘straight_ ,’ ha ha, but you get it--by informing him of Gupta’s asexuality. Oh, Gil.

“Ya know how people, mostly homophobes, say that one thing?” Alfred asked then, thoughtfully. “About gay or bi or pan or whatever people having ‘homosexual tendencies?’ Could you say that you guys--ace spectrum people--have, like… ‘asexual tendencies?’” Al giggled.

Yong Soo laughed. “I feel like, at least for me and Gupta, it’s less a ‘tendency’ toward an ‘asexual lifestyle,’ and more a... I don’t know… that’s what we’re doing. That’s what we’re up to--rubbing our dirty asexual hands all over the property of homophobes who unironically say shit like ‘homosexual tendencies’ or ‘homosexual lifestyle.’” Al contorted himself at the wheel for a high five.

“Heck yeah,” Alfred told him.

“Heck yeah,” Yong Soo agreed.

“Speaking of gay people!” Al chirped, “Matthew still hasn’t texted me back, so I have literally no idea when he may be home. Wanna grab food before we head over there? I’ll buy!”

Alfred F. Jones was a blessing. Yong Soo couldn’t wait until he’d get him as a brother-in-law! But for the time being he and Kiku were waiting until after college to do the marriage thing, because money. Sigh.

So then they were pulling up to the McDonald’s drive-thru, cranking up the volume to some catchy Taylor Swift song that they totally weren’t above blasting the old speakers to. And they were entirely cooler than the whole posse of middle schoolers side-eyeing them for their ‘embarrassing’ display _combined_. Al and Yong Soo had fries and nuggets and a life to enjoy.

Alfred purchased the six nuggets that Yong Soo modestly requested, then got twenty for himself, fries, and a Diet Coke.

Yong Soo loved Alfred F. Jones. He really did. Kinda no wonder why a poor little high school Yong Soo mistook the platonic admiration for one of his best friends for romantic feelings. Leading to them ‘dating’ for a while during their sophomore and junior years… Yeah, long story.

ANYWAY, Alfred still hadn’t been contacted by Matthew, but--for lack of anything better to do--they decided to head to his place anyway.

They pulled up to the curb at Chez Matthew-- a quaint abode. Al crossed the little yard in a few bounds and dug the house key out from under a big rock. He waved it at Yong Soo in triumph; Yong Soo pumped his own fists in the air for a show of solidarity with Alfred's triumph.

Al knocked first, of course, but, of course, nobody answered. So they used the key.

Mattie had a nice place! Pretty neat and tidy, even without expecting guests. He was proud of him. Yong Soo went to the fridge, because why not, and he even had milk! This guy was living like a king!

Alfred fired up his brother’s gaming console, Yong Soo gingerly scooted Matthew’s stuff a bit to the side on the coffee table, and they kicked up their sock feet for a few rounds of Mario Kart while they waited.

 

A few hours later, after _many_ rounds of Mario Kart and much yelling, Matthew pulled into the driveway of his humble home in his humble car. Yong Soo paused the game. Matthew was whistling, fiddling with his keys, not noticing Alfred’s truck parked out front by the curb. Yong Soo looked over at Alfred. “Hey… Did we ever tell him that we were here?” Yong Soo asked.

“Uh…” answered Alfred.

Matthew was checking his phone as he opened the door.

“HEY, MATTIE!” Alfred greeted his twin.

It was like a surprise party, except that it was no one’s birthday and Matthew’s first instinct was to curse in French and go for the pepper spray on his keychain as a large blond man came at him for a bear hug. Then, there was a lot more yelling as Alfred and Yong Soo told him _not_ to use that, and Matthew was yelling back at Alfred demanding to know what was going on and _why_ they were in his house.

It took a bit for everything to calm back down, but then they were sitting on Matthew’s couch as Matthew--glaring daggers at Alfred--moved the house bills, prescription testosterone, and stuff from his coffee table. He sat between them with a sigh, tired from work. “I’m on my lunch break,” he told them both. “How have you been, Yong Soo?”

“I’m great! How about you? Long time, no see!”

Matthew shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve been… paying bills…?”

“Being an adult sucks,” Yong Soo nodded understandingly, patting his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, though,” Matthew told him in a brighter tone and Yong Soo beamed. Aww! “What’s all this about?” Matthew looked between him and Alfred, slightly suspicious. Alfred laughed nervously, which did not reassure Matthew.

“So, ya know what we were talking about this morning--”

“Alfred, you didn’t.”

“I HAVEN’T EVEN SAID WHAT I DID YET!” Alfred protested. “Hear me out, okay?” Yong Soo wondered if he could sneak away from the family drama and get some chips from Matthew’s cabinet… “I was trying to help Soo-y!” Al kindly shoved Yong Soo into the fray. “He’s doing a movie about asexual people!” And aromantic. The modern college age aro-ace spectrum individual.

“But I’m not asexual, Al. I’m gay.”

“I know, I know! And I know what you said this morning was private and it was totally not cool of me, but I wasn’t thinking--”

“Shocker.”

“Mattiiiiie…” Al whined.

Matthew rubbed his forehead like this on top of work was giving him a headache. “So you only told Yong Soo?” he quietly asked after a pause. Yong Soo and Alfred nodded in affirmative.

“It’s not leaving our little trio here if you don’t want it to,” Yong Soo assured him. Matthew nodded, thinking.

“So… What exactly are you doing again…?”

Yong Soo straightened. It was his time. “I’m making a documentary!” he announced to the room, shooting to his feet. He gestured widely, “I will portray for the world _the modern asexual_! We break it down. We show them what it means. Then we show them how there’s so much more! Such a broad array and diversity of experiences! We’re depicting folks all over the aromantic and asexual spectrum! I’m talking _examples_! Brilliant cinematography! The vibrancy of college life! Struggles and fun times and busting misconceptions and _people_! We’ll show them what it means! And, what it doesn’t mean.” Yong Soo took a breath. He sat back down.

“Have you been practicing that?” Matthew asked, mildly impressed. Yong Soo shook his head as he took a drink of water.

“Only a few times in front of the mirror.”

"It sounds cool..." Matthew leaned forward a little. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how my thing can really help?” He pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked a _lot_ like Alfred. The two had grown practically identical after Matthew had started T. Al was still built more like a jock after high school football, Matthew being more lean, but they had always been about the same height-- taller than Yong Soo. So not fair. “I mean,” Matthew continued, “I can see how it’s kinda similar? But… I still like guys?” Matthew coughed, kind of embarrassed. “I’m still _attracted_ to men. It’s just that…” he shrugged one shoulder.

“That what?” Yong Soo prompted gently. “You don’t have to tell me anything!” he did give the disclaimer! “Just be like, ‘hey, Yong Soo! Go suck an egg!’ It’s fine if you do that! It’s _your_ business. I’m just the movie man. But I’d like to hear it from you, if at all.” He gave Matthew a thumbs up. Alfred added his own thumbs up. Matthew was quiet, so he added a joke. “I can always tell you all about my thrilling sex life, if you want.”

That got him a laugh. Hell yeah.

“No, you’re fine,” Matthew said lightly. “It’s just that, no matter how handsome men are, when it comes to the thought of being with anyone...” He waved a hand like he was clearing the thought from the air. “That’s just kind of where it stops? Cis men, trans men, whatever. It’s not really _them_ ; it’s me. I just... don’t want that sort of closeness to myself yet. It doesn’t even sound good…?” he held up his hands, sighing again. “Dysphoria is a bitch,” Matthew summarized for them.

Yong Soo slugged him playfully in the arm. “Sounds like you’ve got a place in my movie if you want it. You could talk about how you’re not ace or how you sympathize with ace people, or about how you play on the city hockey team. It just sounds to me like you’re a guy with a story to tell like the rest of us. Example, anti-example, whatever; blurry lines are a part of life sometimes.”

“I’ll think about it,” Matthew told him, “But I do need to eat lunch and get back to work. It’s been great to see you. Please come back another time when you’re invited,” Matthew shot a pointed look at Alfred, and Yong Soo didn’t correct him to say that it was actually Yong Soo’s idea to come to the house.

The twins hugged it out, and Matthew very politely kicked them out of his home.

Natalya still hadn’t texted him, so he texted her… After he’d raced Alfred back to the truck. Damn him and his long white boy legs. At least Yong Soo had his foosball win going for him. Natalya was quick to reply, as the true friend she was, blunt as always. She lovingly informed him that she would stab him if he kept interrupting her study time by trying to bring this up. Ah, friendship.

Ha, Yong Soo was totally going to get stabbed because he and Natalya Braginskaya were _definitely_ going to talk about this.

But she didn’t want to talk at the moment, obviously. And maybe she never would want to talk about it, but he cared about her and she knew that so she could suck it up and they could express themselves over some lovely homemade Ramen noodles, fresh from the package. Yong Soo texted her to see if they were good on Ramen while he was out and about. She confirmed that their collection was plentiful. See? It was a perfect plan.

He mentally practiced his speech to her. He imagined taking her hand in his, and he imagined the look she’d probably give him for doing this. Yong Soo would look her in the eyes, with sincerity and love, and say the following: ‘Natalya. You are my friend. I hope you would listen to me when I say… Your boyfriend is a pile of shit.’

Yong Soo repeated it in his head until it sounded better. Your _boyfriend_ is a pile of shit. Your boyfriend _is_ a pile of shit. Ya boy is a whole _pile_ of shit. Natalya, your significant other could certainly treat you and your friends better. Natalya, you beautiful heterosexual woman, what the fuck is with your pile of shit? Nat, your boyfriend--

“What’s up, Soo-y?” Alfred’s voice shook him from his thoughts.

“Shit? Um. Sorry. I meant, huh?”

Al burst out laughing at the slip, but then sobered to get to the serious business. “Fergie came on and you didn’t even notice! Something up?” Fergie was, indeed, on the radio.

“Nat’s got some stuff going on, but she doesn’t wanna talk about it. I don’t know if I fully _get_ what’s going on, so I want to talk about it with her, but,” Yong Soo gestured helplessly.

“Something can mess with _Natalya_?” Al wondered in awe. “And she doesn’t just… I don’t know… scare the situation back into place? Threaten to stab it?” Alfred knew her well enough. “You can’t tell me there’s anything on this plane of existence she can’t punch into dust.” Natalya would love to hear that. Yong Soo made a mental sticky note to tell her.

Yong Soo shrugged. “That’s kind of the thing? I don’t see why she _doesn’t_. ‘Cause she could totally fix the situation and be better off for it, but she… doesn’t? I don’t know if there’s something I don’t _know_ about going on or what…” Al reached over to pat him on the shoulder, except he reached blindly because he was a responsible driver focused on the road, so he just kind of gripped Yong Soo’s elbow in a comforting manner. They both just went with it. “So I’m thinking we all sit around the table for a nice roomie-family dinner and we _discuss_ some stuff. I’ll make Ramen. And it may or may not go great! Al, I am open for suggestions.”

Alfred thought about it for a moment, nodding. “What if you actually cooked something, though? _That_ way if she just refuses to talk about it--don’t push her or anything, but you’re good about not doing that--” Aww. “--you can pull that mom thing!”

“Mom thing?”  
“Yeah! The whole ‘I slaved over the hot stove to make you this meal; you owe me, blah blah blah.’”

“Solid plan,” Yong Soo agreed, “But I can’t exactly _cook_ much. I can order takeout and put it on a plate?”

“No. Ya gotta get a home-cooked meal or it doesn’t work,” Alfred was very firm on this point, and Yong Soo knew that he was right. Yong Soo groaned anyway. “I mean… I’m sure someone _else_ could cook it? Can Gupta make something?” Yong Soo shrugged. Gupta usually just made them sandwiches on his night to cook--American cuisine and limited resources and all.

Then, Yong Soo sprouted a lightbulb.

“ALFRED, TAKE THE NEXT LEFT! WE’RE GOING TO YAO’S!”


	13. p■qω・´)

Yong Soo had a couple big brothers, but his _biggest_ brother was Yao. And if there was anything Yao was good at, it was definitely going to be making food for a few brats; he’d been doing it for their messy family Yong Soo’s whole life, being their legal guardian and all.

Yong Soo was pretty sure that Yao was just really hoping for some peace at some point in his life, but even with Kiku, Mei, and him having left the nest, he was still dealing with their bullshit. Exhibit A: Yong Soo showing up unannounced with Alfred Jones in tow, pounding on the door. “ _I TOLD YOU TO STOP INVITING PEOPLE OVER WITHOUT TELLING ME!_ ” Yong Soo heard Yao’s Mandarin shouting at Leon--the last of the kiddos to go--faintly behind the door.

“I _didn’t_!” Yong Soo heard Leon groaning as Yao yanked open the door. Yao blew a strand of hair out of his face, simultaneously annoyed and calmed by the sight of Yong Soo. Leon made a face at Yao’s back as he peeked around the corner. Yong Soo’s poor, poor sibling; he was still in high school.

“What?” was Yao’s brotherly greeting.

“Hey, Yao! It’s great to see you too!” Yong Soo grinned. Yao was waiting for an answer. “So I may have a bit of a situation…” Yao sighed, but opened the door and waved them in.

“If you’ve gotten yourself into legal trouble, I know a guy--” Yao was assuring them.

“Actually! It’s my roommate Natalya--”

“Oh, is she pregnant?” Yao immediately headed toward the kitchen. “I make an excellent herbal tea. She always was a lovely girl; she takes none of your shit--”

“Pregnant? No. Uh, no, I don’t think so. Oh, gosh, I hope not. We can’t afford another, smaller roommate!” Yong Soo looked over at Alfred in distress. Alfred gave him a helpful shrug. “Oh no. Do I have to ask if she’s pregnant now?”

Alfred, Leon from two rooms over, and Yao all simultaneously shouted “NO!” at him. Their coordination was impressive.

“Look, Yao, we just need to talk about some stuff, alright? She’s one of my best friends! And she’s really bad at talking about feelings, so it’s not easy!” Yong Soo thought about the order of those sentences a bit. “Like,” he clarified, “It’s not easy getting her to talk about feelings. It’s totally easy being her friend, because she’s an awesome gal.”

“All this talk of feelings, _sheesh_! You sound like a married couple!”

“Well… we’re not,” was about all Yong Soo could think to say to that.

“I know!” Yao jabbed an accusing finger at him, matter-of-fact, “Open communication is important in all relationships, including your friendships! When did being a married couple become a bad thing?" Yao waved a hand like he smelled something foul. "Men are stupid and think vulnerability is a sign of gay rather than a sign of a functional human! So you are like good married couple, you little shit!” Fair enough. Yong Soo could accept the aggressively-delivered compliment.

“So anyway,” Yong Soo continued, “I’m thinking we’ll just talk over dinner. Al--” Al waved on cue, “--thought it should be a homemade dinner so that there’s that _incentive_ for her to talk to me since it’s nice and prepared and stuff.” Yong Soo gave Yao a ‘tada’ gesture to signal the end of the grand plan.

Yao scrunched his nose, confused. “That sounds good,” he agreed hesitantly, still not seeing why they were there. “Food is the way to the heart. How about I send you with some of that herbal tea, just in case?” Yao offered.

“Ooh, tea!” Yong Soo showed enthusiasm for the sake of getting Yao on his side for his _next_ words. “Also, another thing though, um... Can you cook the homemade meal?”

Yao’s disappointment in him at this request was palpable.

Yao grabbed a container of spice from a nearby cupboard and pointed it at him. “I am not happy about this! You are a grown man!” he chastised, which let Yong Soo know that he’d totally won. “ _JIA LONG_!” Yao hollered to Leon.

Leon, however, was already headed toward them, stepping into the kitchen the moment his given name was called. “Don’t call me that,” he said, almost bored, staring at his phone as he wandered vaguely toward them. Leon and Alfred did a cool handshake, Leon not even needing to look.

“It’s your name,” Yao reminded him. It was an old argument between the two. “I’m not calling you by some white name, I don’t _care_ if you think you’re hot shit, end of story.” Leon looked over at Yong Soo and Alfred to give them that good old ‘see what I have to put up with?’ look. Yong Soo was pretty sure Leon didn’t see Yao give the two of them the exact same look before asking, “Now, Jia Long, what do you want for dinner? It looks like I’m cooking for a group.” Leon shrugged.

“I don’t care.”

“A surprise it is, then,” Yao decided, and got to work.

“Thanks, Yao!” Yong Soo went in for a hug. Yao, hands full with cookware, patted Yong Soo’s arm to reciprocate the love.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, not unkindly.

Leon, meanwhile, finished up a text before addressing what else he had in his hand. He held out the paper pamphlet to Yong Soo. “Here,” Leon told him. Yong Soo eyed it, confused, because why was his cool little brother giving him a brochure? “They gave us all one in health class. Thought you could use it.”

Taken by that fascinating description of the mystery pamphlet, Yong Soo took it. And then burst out laughing. _100 CLEVER Ways to Say NO to Sex_. He loved it instantly. He opened it, and, oh, those poor high school students; hardly _any_ of them could be practically used. Meaning, it was 100% perfect for him.

He pulled his little brother in for a big hug. “I LOVE IT. IT IS EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED. THANK YOU SO MUCH, LEON!”

“Don’t use the white name,” Yao complained.

“HE DESERVES HIS WHITE NAME FOR THIS.”

“It’s not a white name,” Leon groaned.

“You’re my brother and I love and support you and will use whatever name you want me to, but it is _entirely_ a white name.” Yong Soo ruffled his hair while he pouted.

“Hey, man,” Al said to Leon, putting a brotherly hand on his shoulder. “White doesn’t equal ‘normal’ or ‘cool.’”

“Yeah, take it from Alfred,” Yong Soo agreed, grinning over at his friend.

“Hey!” Alfred stuck his tongue out at Yong Soo. “I meant it’s okay to have people learn and use your not-white name. You shouldn’t have to change it for their convenience.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Sure. And can you pronounce it for me?”

Alfred swallowed, shifting a little. There was a long, pregnant pause where everyone turned to look at him. “... So what was it again…?” Al squeaked.

Leon gave a ‘there you go’ gesture at Alfred. “See?”

Yong Soo scooted closer to his friend to show him the pamphlet. Alfred read a few, and made a face. “Is this a joke?” he asked Leon.

“They think it’s not,” Leon shrugged, looking back at his phone.

“So we absolutely need to go to another sorority party with Yeketrina so I can use this. I’m going to keep it in my pocket, always,” Yong Soo told him. “I love it. I connect with these simple, ridiculous phrases on an emotional level.”

Al was giggling when Yao hit him with that “So, Alfred,” while whisking at something. Alfred stopped giggling, probably straightening up for his future fatherly-brother-in-law. “How’s Kiku?” he inquired. Alfred looked at Yong Soo, wanting to know if this was a weighted question. Yong Soo gave him a shrug.

“He’s doing great. We’re doing great.”

“I see,” Yao nodded, as if this was very interesting. That was it. Yao carried on with his cooking. Alfred flashed Yong Soo a nervous little grin to reiterate to him that, man, Yao scared him. Yao did give off the vibe that he might not like Alfred, but he’d never _said_ it. Alfred asked about it a lot, because he didn’t seem to get that his guess was as good as anybody’s. As in, one time Yong Soo had literally asked Yao if he liked Alfred, and Yao--the man himself--shrugged too. So, who knew? Not Yong Soo. Not Alfred. Not even Yao knew if Yao really liked Alfred. That’s life for you, kids.

Yong Soo ran a finger down his list of ‘CLEVER’ comebacks again, cherishing them some more, wondering where they’d been all his asexual life. Wow, now if only sex ed could actually tell the kids at the height of their hormonal, sweaty, freshly-pubescent glory who were stressing over the thought of having sex, or why they would ever need to have sex, or why they don’t _want_ to have sex like their classmates do, that hey-- not everybody _actually_ wants sex in their life ever, or ever experience sexual attraction, and that that is okay and that that does not mean there is nothing wrong with you, your mind, or your body!

But no. All Yong Soo got outta sex ed was knowledge of what the fuck a “vas deferens” was and the same confusion and anxiety about himself that homophobes thought would be avoided in children by keeping LGBTQIA topics _out_ of sexual education. But, obviously, homophobes don’t care about the scared little queers in high school; they just wish they would go away. Yet, neither Yong Soo nor his asexuality went away.

And now he was making a documentary all about it! Character development!

Yao took his time with his cooking. Leon walked off to do whatever the cool high school kids do these days. Yong Soo sidled up to Alfred, and did what any sane person would do, which was act out scenes of rejecting unwanted sexual advances using the remarkably creative lines now available to him in one convenient pamphlet until Yao gave him that brotherly ‘stop it, or I will hit you with this entire wok’ look.

So then Yong Soo was obligated to entertain himself in other ways. Regrettably, he decided it should probably be a way that would help further his higher education. He had a great pal, a cooking big brother, a hiding little brother, and a camera to mess around with until he had something for an assignment to tell a story _like_ a film...but not a film… even though he was paying large sums of cash to study film…

He would just have to capture the _essence_ of a film, then, he supposed. It was just that… Brilliant cinematography and brilliant photography came from the same tree, but were wholly different fruits. Like, yeah, only one moved, but it was more than that! Yong Soo couldn’t explain it. Ugh. He just preferred film-making over picture-taking, damn it.

He messed around with his camera--which was around his neck. What could he say? He was a film major on assignment!-- and took pictures of Alfred who would pose for him, and sneaky pictures of Yao who was not posing for him. Yong Soo didn’t know what he was doing, but he often didn’t so it was fine. Story, story, he had to tell a story. _What_ story? Taking pictures was interfering with his usual creative process. It was throwing him off his groove!

What _story_? ‘Hey, this is my friend, Alfred. He’s cool. He gave me a peace sign. The end.’ It just wasn’t the same level of engaging like a nice moving picture! It’s why people created them! Because moving pictures are dope!

He could imagine what everybody else in his class would do: something stupid they thought was witty at the time. Yong Soo wasn’t dissing laughs or anything, but… it’s just so expected… Yong Soo was all about unexpected! The nature of people! The chic! The adorable! The flashy! The colorful! The weird!  If you can’t tell a story without someone thinking you’re a little batshit crazy, what even is the point?!

But, uh, Yong Soo also had a deadline and beautiful but boring people around him on this day. Maybe some compromise was in order. He was already being shoved outside his comfort zone with this assignment. Heck. He was doing a _documentary_ for the first time in his life for his final! If displaying the boring side of people wasn’t going to make him a better film-maker, he didn’t know what would!

And nobody was _really_ boring. Alfred wasn’t boring. Yao wasn’t boring. It was being stuck in a kitchen that was boring. No stories to be found in hanging out in a kitchen… But there had to be SOMETHING.  

Yong Soo’s racing internal monologue was so rudely interrupted by the racket of keys in the front door. He readied his camera. Anybody who had a set of keys was going to be used to getting filmed by him, whether Yong Soo was moved out or not. It was practically a condition of regularly coming around the house at this point.

It was Ivan! Yao’s live-in BF, who’d only started with the live-in part after three out of the four were off to college. Yao was still refusing to let them in on the personal details, but he and Mei had a bet going on whether it was just the natural course of the relationship or if Yao had put it off until Yong Soo specifically was out of the house so as not to scare Ivan away. Yong Soo’s money was on the latter, because he knew and loved his family so well. One day, Yong Soo intended to collect the ten whole dollars he was due.

Of course, Yong Soo immediately started shooting, taking a burst shot and climbing up onto the table in a crouch for those quality angles. He went back and forth between Yao and Ivan for a few seconds, but it really didn’t take that long for Ivan to cross the kitchen.

It was a touching moment. Yao looked up at Ivan from cooking with a small smile, Ivan walked over to greet him with a small kiss, and both tried their hardest to pretend that Yao’s gremlin of a brother wasn’t in gargoyle position on the kitchen table hissing loudly at them not to look at him as he got a little under a hundred photos of the interaction. Yong Soo was second to none at making touching moments just a tad uncomfortable.

Yong Soo was also ever-thankful for the burst feature installed on most cameras. It made photography more like filming, except you were obligated to sift through every ‘frame’ during the editing process.

Touching moment over, Yao flipped Yong Soo off.

“WAIT!” Yong Soo cried, fumbling to photograph that too. “ _DO THAT AGAIN_!”

Yao did, quite gladly.

“NO!” Yong Soo yelled. “I NEED IT WITH THE FACE! THE FACE WHERE YOU’RE DONE WITH MY SHIT-- _YES_! YES, PERFECT! NOW GIVE IT SOME FLARE!” Ivan awkwardly stepped out of the shot (too late, but he didn’t need to know that.)

“Welcome home,” Yao sighed to his boyfriend. “How was work?”

He left them to their conversation, ecstatic. Yong Soo had dinner AND material for his assignment! The pamphlet crinkled in his pocket as he climbed off the table. AND a brochure full of stupid shit to say! Talk about a score!

He hoped it all would brighten Nat’s evening a bit.

Yong Soo pulled out his phone and texted Gupta, saying he was bringing home food for a nice family dinner.


End file.
